Trust
by Anria
Summary: Set post-EW. Duo wakes up after a mission to find he and his partner have been captured by a bunch of terrorists - but the worst part of it all is not that he's been captured, but who he's been captured with. (Complete)
1. Part 1

Some of you (if you have looooooong memories) might remember this fic from ages ago. Basically, I got up to a certain point where updates on it were so sporadic that I decided right, no more updates until it's finished.  
  
Then college ate my brain.  
  
Now, however, the fic is _finally_ over, so I'll be updating it here in regular instalments until I run out of updates. Enjoy!  
  
**Author**: Anria  
**Warnings**: some violence in future parts  
**Pairings**: the beginnings of a Duo/Zechs thingy  
**Disclaimer**: do I look rich enough to own GW to you? (Hint: noooooooooooooo.)   
  


**Trust Part 1**

  
_Oww. . . ._  
  
The first thing Duo became aware of was the pounding in his skull. The second was that it wasn't a hangover, and the rough surface beneath his cheek wasn't his bed – or his carpet. He groaned and brought a hand up to his head, gingerly feeling the lump at the back of his scalp.  
  
_Okay . . . sit up now._  
  
As he attempted to do just that, he found that the world was suddenly a dizzy place, even when pitch black. Feeling nausea building up, and slumped back onto the floor of . . . wherever he was.  
  
He had a million questions to ask. However, all that came out was "Wha. . . .?"  
  
He wasn't expecting an answer. He got one. "You're finally awake."  
  
The voice, smooth as it was, jarred the demon in his head into full awareness, so that where it had had idly thumping pain, he now had a full brass band equipped with concert level speakers in his head. Duo shut his eyes tightly, wincing, and clamped his hands to his head. A soft, whimpered, "Ow. . . ." made its way past his tightly clenched jaw as he prayed fervently to whatever god there might be that the other person in the room with him would refrain from speaking until his migraine-in-the-making calmed down.  
  
There was a god. Whoever it was (although Duo had the feeling he knew him since the voice was familiar – not well known, but familiar) had been kind enough to _not_ make any noise that would set his head to pounding once again.  
  
Eventually the blinding pain subsided into a dull, thudding ache, and slowly Duo felt he could sit without having to throw up.  
  
_They must've really knocked me a good one. . . . Usually nothing keeps me down like this. . . ._ Carefully manoeuvring his hands to rest palm down on the ground beside him, he slowly levered himself to his hands, tucking his knees under him, and then equally carefully and slowly turned over so he was sitting. His fuddled brain managed to make the leap of intellect required to process that the material he was now sitting on was metal brick, the kind in the old OZ prisons.  
  
For a moment he wondered if he had dreamed the end of the war, if he had woken up in an OZ prison and it was just his wishful thinking that had brought the past four years to life, and then dismissed that as a fantasy. He was probably in one of the old OZ bases that Une had decided were not worth the effort and upheaval of destroying, and since most of those were in the middle of urbanised areas, he was probably in a city somewhere. Now all he had to do was remember what had last happened before he'd been knocked unconscious.  
  
"Feeling better now?"  
  
Damn, that voice intruding again. Duo frowned, then winced as that simple facial manoeuvre made the throbbing in his head flare up a moment more. Luckily, the voice itself wasn't causing a severe onset of pain any more. "A bit," he rasped out to the other occupant of the cell, wondering whether it was friend or foe, and why his instincts told him it was a mixture of each.  
  
He rubbed his forehead, suddenly determined not to think about it. Thinking hurt. "Any idea where we are?"  
  
"Most likely in the part of the Victoria base that wasn't demolished."  
  
He didn't refer to it as the OZ Victoria base. That was all Duo could think of. The only people who didn't make the distinction were former OZ personnel themselves, and he didn't know many of those, so how come the voice was familiar?  
  
Duo winced, scrunching his eyes up tight. "Thinking hurts," he whimpered, barely aware he spoke out loud.  
  
A deep, soft chuckle rolled through the room, and amazingly calmed his headache rather than inflaming it. "I'd heard thinking wasn't your strong suit," the stranger said.  
  
"Wha— Hey! Who told you that?" Now given a reason to ignore the pain in his head, ignore it he did, sitting bolt upright and peering around in the gloom. _Okay, now for stupid observation number three: it's too dark._  
  
The stranger was silent now. Duo peered in the general direction he thought the voice had come from, eyes rapidly adjusting to the dark the way they always did, and thought he caught a glint of something pale. Either skin, clothes or hair. Or all three. Whatever it was, it was the stranger.  
  
"Who're you?" Duo demanded suspiciously.  
  
"You don't recognise me? I'm insulted."  
  
"I can't see you. If I can't see you, how the hell do you expect me to recognise you?"  
  
The stranger sighed. "You must've been hit harder than I thought. We were on a mission together? For the Preventers? At the Victoria base? We were attacked? We were put here? Is any of this sounding familiar?"  
  
Duo frowned, trying to remember. He remembered being disgruntled about the mission, or rather, who he would be going with, but he couldn't remember who that was or anything about the mission.  
  
"Can't remember a damn thing," he declared cheerfully, reasoning that if he got a feeling of mistrust and annoyance when he thought of the stranger, then it was his solemn duty to be as irritating as possible.  
  
The other man sighed. "Idiot."  
  
"Hey, who're you calling an idiot? If it was my fault we got in this mess, I would damn well have remembered!" It was the truth, too. He always remembered his mistakes, like it was some sort of divine punishment, that he always remember even the stupid little things and feel utterly mortified by them.  
  
The other man snorted and shifted in the dark room. Duo couldn't see it, but he could hear it.  
  
"Hey, are you gonna give me your name or what?"  
  
No reply.  
  
"Well then, I'll just have to think of one for you. How 'bout—" Duo's poor abused brain was saved from having to think up a suitably annoying nickname by the timely opening of the door. It crashed against the wall outside with a loud clang, forcing an involuntary whimper from Duo's lips.  
  
In a patently unnecessary melodramatic gesture, a tall, stately male figure stood silhouetted from behind in the now-open doorway. The man walked into the cell, and spoke.  
  
"I'm very sorry about this," he said, "but we had to place you here temporarily while more suitable accommodation was prepared. Please come this way."  
  
_Who the hell does he think he is, a hotel manager?_ Duo, for once in his life, refrained from blurting his initial thoughts out loud, and got to his feet shakily.  
  
The other person in the cell with him was speaking in the same cultured tones as the new stranger. "And might I ask why we have been detained in such a manner? I do not recall having an appointment that involves being thrown into a cell while 'more suitable accommodation' is made ready."  
  
The other man sighed, somewhat melodramatically. _Jeez, are they all drama queens?_ Duo wondered. "I'm afraid you will have to be regrettably detained for a while, at least until our demands are met. If you presence here does not spur someone into action, I'm sure Heero Yuy would take an interest in his friend's well-being."  
  
_Oh, fuck. Of all the people I have to get whacked on the head by, it_ would _have to be a psycho terrorist faction. Bad karma, I suppose – there was a time when_ I _was the psycho terrorist faction._  
  
The man gestured to the cell door. "If you would step this way, gentlemen?"  
  
Duo had a sudden urge to flatten himself against the wall and growl 'not bloody likely', but recognised that he could do more damage out of the cell than in.  
  
It appeared his captor was a mind reader. "I would not advise any sudden moves, Mr Maxwell," he said. "My men are all heavily armed and well prepared for the moves of such a man as you."  
  
_The moves of such a man as me. . . . What the fuck?!_  
  
"Yeah, great, bring on out the champagne and dancing girls in welcome, why don't you," Duo muttered as, on stepping out of the cell, his arms were grabbed roughly, wrenched behind his back, and clamped in the irritating kind of restraints that stretched from elbow to wrist. _Heh, at least OZ was kind enough to put these damn things on in front – in back it damn well hurts!_  
  
Duo didn't even get the opportunity to find out who he was supposed to have been on the mission with, as he had the dubious honour of being at the front of their merry little band, frog-marched along cold military hallways into more decorative upper class hallways, both literally crawling with the kind of people who you just knew on looking at them belonged in a maximum security prison.  
  
_At least the décor's worth it,_ Duo mused as one of the goons who felt it necessary to yank on his hair at infrequent intervals opened a door and shoved him through it, slamming him face up against the wall and holding him there to remove the cuffs. From what he could see of the room, gold leaf adorned the coving, and the wallpaper was a masterpiece in vine-work, while various pieces of furniture looked both ornate and comfortable. Duo calculated there were five people around him, two holding him against the wall and the other three most likely pointing rifles at his back, which kinda spoiled the whole 'antique delicacy and beauty' thing.  
  
_Joy._  
  
After a moment, the pressure was removed from his arms and shoulders and the door shut with a decisive click of the lock. Duo slumped against the wall, trusting it to hold him up for the time it took him to persuade his head that really, he didn't need a blinding migraine right now.  
  
Once he had gathered his wits enough to stand on his own two feet, he turned around and met the calm blue eyes of his mission partner, seated in one of the ornate chairs as though he had been born to place his royal arse there.  
  
Then again, he had.  
  
"Oh fucking hell, why did I have to get stuck here with you?" 


	2. Part 2

**Author**: Anria  
**Warnings**: some violence in future parts  
**Pairings**: the beginnings of a Duo/Zechs thingy  
**Disclaimer**: do I look rich enough to own GW to you? (Hint: noooooooooooooo.)   
  


**Trust Part 2**

  
"Oh fucking hell, why did I have to get stuck here with you?"  
  
Zechs blinked at him. "Excuse me?"  
  
Duo slumped against the wall, pressing the heel of one hand to his forehead as his memories returned.  
  
Along with his intense dislike of one Zechs Merquise.  
  
"Joy. Not only do I have to be captured by a bunch of whacked-out psycho terrorists who think they can use me to actually _make_ Heero do something, which is about as likely as the devil going to work on ice skates, but I have to endure captivity in a gilded cage with the absolute _last_ person I want to have anything to do with, which includes Quatre on one of his guilt trips and Wufei on a sugar high ranting about justice, which is one of _the_ scariest things I have ever seen. There is no God!"  
  
Having finished his tirade, Duo let himself fall to the floor, resting his elbows on his knees and staring morosely at the floor between his feet.  
  
"Is it so bad?"  
  
Duo shut his eyes and started slamming his head back against the wall over and over again, hard. "Come on . . . one of these . . . knock me out . . . _please_!"  
  
"You know, if you keep that up you'll get a concussion, and _I'll_ have to be the one waking you up every hour."  
  
Duo stopped banging his head on the wall. "Peachy," he muttered.  
  
Silence reigned in the room.  
  
Then, "Wufei on a sugar high?"  
  
Duo snorted. "Yeah, the last time I spiked his tea with those energising tablet things exercise freaks take – the ones that are just about sugar and nothing else."  
  
"Huh." Zechs was silent for a moment, digesting that thought. "Why do you dislike me so much?"  
  
"Personal reasons."  
  
"We'd never spoken before this mission."  
  
"So what?"  
  
"Is it because I am ex-OZ? Because I would have thought such petty concerns were beneath you, as one of the Gundam pilots."  
  
Duo sighed. He _did_ owe the man some sort of explanation – just not the whole truth. "OZ has something to do with it, but not all. Don't worry your pretty blond head over it." He opened his eyes, and for the first time voluntarily looked at the other man. Zechs looked back calmly, seeming unfazed by his irritability and just plain nastiness. "So, since they specifically wanted you and me as captives, what's betting that they're planning something to do with Sank?"  
  
Zechs nodded slowly. "Most likely I will be leverage on my sister, and you on her husband."  
  
Duo snorted. "Yeah, right. Like anybody can make Heero do anything."  
  
"Well, they obviously don't know him as well as you do, then, do they?"  
  
_O-ho! Zechsy boy's startin' to snipe back!_ "And what do you mean by that?" Duo asked, slapping his manic grin in place.  
  
Zechs raised one elegant blond eyebrow. _Holy fuck, he even sneers elegantly!_ "I am told that you and Heero are somewhat closer than best friends."  
  
Duo burst out laughing. He couldn't help it. "Relena got to you!" he gasped out. "Damn, that bitch is paranoid! No matter how many times I tell her— Hey!"  
  
Duo found himself on his feet, suspended by his braid, with a fairly pissed-off Zechs in front of him. "Don't call her that," he growled.  
  
Duo grinned at him, not fazed in the least. Hell, when Heero was your friend you learned to take your fair share of deathglares without flinching. "Oh, come _on_, she's about as nasty to me as her wonderful upbringing will let her be. I'd rather she hit me and called me a whore than go about subtly snubbing me, just because she thinks Heero likes _me_ more than _her_. You wanna know the only reason she thinks me'n Heero have something going?" he said conversationally, willing to overlook Zechs' mistreatment of the braid – for now. "It's because he'll let me hug him. He lets _her_ hang all over him, but she's still jealous because he'll let me hug him!" Duo laughed. "Face it, Z-babe, your sister's an idiot. Although now I think about it, who wouldn't be jealous of me?" He leaned back against the wall, fluttering his eyelashes while his grin took on a hint of snarl. "Now let go of the damn braid and back off."  
  
Zechs didn't let go of the damn braid or back off. Instead he stared at Duo intently, glares clashing, before slowing relinquishing his hold and taking a step back. "So there's nothing between you and Heero," he said.  
  
Duo snorted again. _I seem to be making a habit out of that._ "Heero's great, but I wouldn't sleep with him if you paid me. He's a walking machine. And why the fuck am I explaining this to you?"  
  
"Hn."  
  
"Oh, great, now he's _imitating_ the guy. Sheesh! First you want to kill him, then you want to be him! Make your damn mind up!"  
  
"Are you this irritating on purpose, or does it come naturally?"  
  
Duo grinned, one arm behind his head. "Bit of both, I think. I have to try not to be irritating to the people I like."  
  
Zechs snorted, seating himself gracefully in the chair. Looking at him move, Duo began to feel like an awkward, gangly teenager again. "I think we should be more concerned over what our captors are planning to do than family arguments."  
  
"Since when am I part of your family? Okay, okay," Duo said, holding up a hand to forestall Zech's arguments, "I'm sorry. We'll focus on what these whackos are doing, right? Truce?"  
  
Zechs eyed him for a moment. "Truce."  
  
Duo slumped down onto the floor again. It was nice and comfortable there, with a thick plush carpet, even if his back could do with a cushion or two behind it. Oh well. He'd suffered worse. "Most likely they'll have some demands like the release of politic prisoners or a change in the law to target The Peacecrafts. Or some demand for money. S'not likely to be anything militaristic, with the possible exception of allowing someone other than the Preventers to have mobile suits as something other than a museum exhibit."  
  
Zechs nodded. "Yes. Although it could have something to do with Preventers – Une is, after all, appointed by Relena."  
  
"Yeah, but what d'you think would happen if someone tried to replace Une?" Duo grinned. "All of us pilots would revolt, at least."  
  
Zechs' eyebrows flickered upward. "You would?"  
  
"Hell yeah! Trowa especially. If Tro-Tro wasn't such a card-carrying faggot I'd have said he and Une had something going. As it is, every time I go into his office I see him and Quatre doing things I didn't know were anatomically possible." Duo shuddered. "And some that were just plain _weird_."  
  
"You know, I really didn't want to know that."  
  
"Neither did I!" Duo's levity faded. "There's too many options to pick from," he said. "We've got no way of telling what it is they're gonna demand."  
  
It silenced both of them.  
  
Then Duo stretched and yawned, breaking the mood. His stomach rumbled. "Damn, is there anything to eat around here. . . ?" He got to his feet and padded in the direction of the nearest door. Zechs stood and followed him.  
  
"Hm . . . looks like a full apartment! Now, do they have any food around here . . . what the fuck?! Since when do you put a kitchen in a hotel room?"  
  
Zechs chuckled, leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms. "I don't think this is a hotel room, Duo," he said. He felt that it _would_ be possible for him and Duo to get along, if it weren't for the other man's seemingly ungrounded dislike of him.  
  
"It damn well looks like one! Ooh, look, fully stocked!"  
  
And really, Duo could be so cute when he wasn't concentrating.  
  
Zechs took in the main apartment with a quick sweeping look. The first doorway led into a large sitting room, with a slightly less ornate and far more comfortable-looking sofa and two armchairs, facing a large, black television. A doorway on the left of the room led to the kitchen, which was where Duo had disappeared, and the two remaining doors on the two remaining walls led to a bedroom and what appeared to be a study.  
  
Whoever these people were, they certainly hadn't done themselves any favours by allowing the two pilots access to potential sources of communication. Zechs walked over to the door to the study in his usual ground-eating stride, peering inside and feeling a grin light his face when he registered that yes, there was a computer inside.  
  
Swiftly booting the machine up, Zechs noticed an ordinary video tape carefully placed beside the PC. Picking it up, he read the label – _To Misters Maxwell and Merquise._  
  
"Hey, Z-babe, whatcha got?"  
  
The tape was suddenly snatched out of his hand, and his vocal cords atrophied when he couldn't decide whether to protest the demeaning nickname or protest the removal of the tape. Duo grinned insolently down at him, holding a thick sandwich with a large chunk taken out of it in one hand and the video tape in the other. "If they've left us a message, it would only be kind of us to do them courtesy of watching it, wouldn't it?" Without waiting for a reply, the braided man swung around and quite literally flounced out of the room, Zechs staring after him with his mouth still opening and closing like a landed fish.  
  
He could do nothing else. He followed the American.  
  
When he entered the central living room, he was treated to a very nice view of how well Duo's uniform pants fitted his ass as the man bent over to insert the ancient tape into the equally antiquated video player.  
  
_If only he didn't dislike me so much. . . ._  
  
Zechs barely restrained from slapping himself on the forehead. _Yeah, great timing,_ he told his hormones.  
  
The shorter man had now stretched out on the sofa, feet dangling off one end and braid dangling off the other. "You gonna watch or not, blondie?"  
  
"Don't call me that."  
  
"Sure thing, Z-babe."  
  
"Don't call me that either." Zechs seated himself in the nearest armchair, grateful that before the braided man could answer, the tape cut him off.  
  
::"Mr Maxwell, Mr Merquise,":: the same man who had escorted them from their cell that day said from the tape. ::"If you are watching this, I assume you will now have discovered the apartment we have laid out for your convenience. It is well-stocked with food and clothing, along with a washing machine, so for the duration of your stay with us. Once again, I apologise for the necessity of this, but our cause has proven it requires such measures as this."::  
  
"Great, _dedicated_ psychos," Duo muttered.  
  
::"It is my hope that your stay will be a short one. We have no reason to harm either of you unless you try to escape. The windows in the outer rooms are made of ten inch thick glass with steel bars lining them. The telephone lines have been cut, and the computer has been rendered incapable of doing anything other than playing simple games already installed and running a word processor. Also, this television does not have the capability to receive or transmit to a satellite, and all the potential parts required to make such a device have been removed from this apartment, as has anything more deadly than a bread knife. Don't think to break out of the apartment via the front door – there is a group of ten of our soldiers with machine guns waiting outside.":: The man on the video smiled thinly. ::"I do not underestimate either of your capabilities. Until Mr and Mrs Peacecraft-Yuy accede to our demands, you will be staying here. I have gone to great pains to ensure that. Please do not make it any harder on yourselves than you have to.":: The screen went black.  
  
"Great," Duo said, then threw his head back and sighed. "He's right about the direct approach, at least – I counted _way_ too many people in this place to be able to fight our way out with a bread knife, which is, incidentally, the only knife in the kitchen with an edge. And none of the others could possibly carry one. I doubt he's right about the transmissions, though – I've spent way too much time around Heero, and I'm a mechanic. I can make anything do anything I want, given enough time."  
  
"I wonder why he left the games on there, though," Zechs mused.  
  
"Probably to try and be 'civilised' and give us something to do," Duo said thoughtfully.  
  
Zechs sighed and stretched. "I think the first thing we should do is figure out where we are and contact the Preventers," he stated, then yawned. "First thing tomorrow morning."  
  
Duo jerked his head in the direction of the bedroom. "You take the bed. I'll sleep out here."  
  
Zechs frowned at him, wondering what had to be wrong with the bed for Duo to give it up. "You sure?"  
  
Duo snorted. "It's a queen size double bed, which might _just_ contain you, but the sofa definitely won't. I haven't put any explosives or unwelcome surprises in there," he added when Zechs still hesitated.  
  
"Won't you get cold?" the blond man persisted.  
  
"I'll be fine, damn it! Now get!"  
  
Zechs got.  
  
Sometime into the night, however, he was woken by a loud thump in the next room. Rolling his eyes and wondering what Maxwell had managed to get himself into, he went out of the bedroom, shivering in the cold – it appeared the users of the building forswore central heating at night – to find a semi-conscious Duo curled up in a ball on the floor shivering madly.  
  
Zechs barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. He leaned down and tugged on Duo's arm, muttering, "Come on, you can't sleep out here and not get hypothermia. Come with me."  
  
"Wuzzat?" Huge, sleepy blue-violet eyes blinked up at Zechs.  
  
"You're sharing the bed with me before you freeze."  
  
"Wha? Why?" Zechs had Duo on his feet now, still shaking like a leaf, and was leading him to the bedroom door.  
  
"I just said that. You need to get somewhere warm before you freeze."  
  
". . . stood worse," Duo mumbled.  
  
"So what's the point if you don't have to?"  
  
Duo fell silent and allowed Zechs to guide him, wondering at the trust he was shown for all that the braided man didn't like him. If he tried this with any of the other pilots he was certain they wouldn't have allowed themselves to remain half-asleep, at the least. Most likely he'd have had a lovely black eye for his trouble, but Duo allowed him to manoeuvre the American through the doorway and to the bed.  
  
Once there, however, he started struggling faintly. "'S embarrassing," Duo muttered.  
  
"What is? Sharing a bed with me? Nothing's going to happen, Duo, don't worry."  
  
"S'not that. . . ." But he had already fallen backwards into the soft mattress and duvet that Zechs held up for him. "Don' say I didn' warn ya. . . ."  
  
"Didn't warn me of what?" Zechs asked him, only to find Duo fast asleep, limbs slowly uncurling from his foetal position as warmth seeped back into him. The blond man sighed, rolled his eyes, shoved Duo over a bit and clambered into the bed beside him.  
  
It wasn't long before he found out what Duo had supposedly 'warned' him of.  
  
Strong arms clamped around his waist, a braided head nuzzling up under his chin. One of the other man's legs threw itself over his, and then Duo relaxed totally, leaning into Zechs' warmth. All done before the man could move.  
  
Duo Maxwell was a cuddler.  
  
Bright blue eyes stared incredulously down at the dark head snuggled under his chin. The American looked for all the world as though if you stroked his back or patted him on the head he'd start purring.  
  
_This has got to be as embarrassing for him as it is for me,_ Zechs thought. _Or at least, it will be once he wakes up._ That thought in mind, he gently tried to edge himself away from the other man, only to find that even deeply asleep and completely relaxed – which was another thing he never expected Duo to do around him – he had a grip like an octopus, and seemingly as many arms. Every time Zechs managed to move a few inches away from one of Duo's limbs, another one joined in. Sometimes it even seemed like his braid had a mind of its own.  
  
Eventually Zechs gave up and leaned back into the bed, resigning himself to the American's warmth snug by his side.  
  
He might as well try to get some sleep. 


	3. Part 3

**Author**: Anria  
**Warnings**: some violence in future parts  
**Pairings**: the beginnings of a Duo/Zechs thingy  
**Disclaimer**: do I look rich enough to own GW to you? (Hint: noooooooooooooo.)  
  


**Trust Part 3**

  
  
If you'd told Duo that he'd wake up at any point in his life wrapped around Zechs Merquise like an overgrown kitten, he'd have called you a blind fool and knocked you a good one.  
  
After laughing his arse off, of course.  
  
That was, however, the position he found himself in the next morning.  
  
"Holy fuck!"  
  
Once Duo had woken up enough to realise just _who_ it was he was glomped onto like there was no tomorrow, he threw himself away from the man, scrambling backwards on the bed on his hands and feet, eyes wide with shock. However, he misjudged the distance he had until he reached the other side of the bed – or just didn't care – and fell backwards off the bed, cracking his already sore head on the floor on the other side.  
  
Duo slapped a hand over his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose and waiting for the sparks behind his eyelids to fade. He could feel his face burning: he had to look incredibly stupid, his torso firmly planted on the floor and his legs so twisted up in the covers one ankle was suspended above the floor, the other leg propped on the bed up to the knee. He refused to open his eyes and acknowledge that he had overreacted and made a royal fool of himself, even when the bedcovers that had remained _on_ the bed rustled with movement.  
  
"Good morning to you too. I wasn't aware I was so repulsive."  
  
If Duo hadn't been put into a superbly pissy mood by falling off the bed and whacking his head on the floor already, that would have made him laugh. As it was, he just scrunched his eyes tighter shut and pretended the last five minutes hadn't happened.  
  
Better yet, the last two days.  
  
The bedcovers rustled again, indicating Zechs had stood up. The sound of the door opening reached Duo's ears. "I believe I will leave you alone to gather what remains of your dignity," Zechs said from the vicinity of the room's exit. "After all, I'm hardly the person you most wish to see right now."  
  
The door shut.  
  
Duo lay still for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose harder. "Yeah, go make a damn fool out of yourself why don't you, Maxwell," he muttered, before opening his eyes and beginning to disentangle his bare feet from the covers. The only thing he had taken off last night were his shoes – and seeing as how he had woken up next to _Zechs Merquise_, of all people, he was suddenly very glad of that fact.  
  
Duo sat on the bed, rubbing his face to try and return some feeling to it – and get rid of the blush. He didn't blush! Blushing was for girls! _Ick. Okay, focus on what you're gonna do today – take that computer apart and see if there's anything to make a radio transmitter out of. Even Morse code will do, as long as it reaches Une._  
  
That was better. No longer focusing on his humiliating wakeup ritual, Duo found his blush fading and confidence returning to him. Half his mind focused on what he could do with computer components, while the other half wondered if Zechs was making breakfast, and if he was, could he please hurry up.  
  
Sighing to himself, Duo stood and made his way to the door, not bothering to root around in the wardrobe and chest for clothes that would fit him, that the whackos who'd brought them there had supposedly left. Entering the central room, he was caught by the sight through the door of Zechs leaning against the counter in the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest and staring at the floor. A sizzling sound indicated that yes, the man had started cooking.  
  
_Why can't I make my mind up about him?_ Duo wondered. _I spend the better part of my life despising him, then curl up like a baby beside him and go to sleep. How can you trust someone you hate?_  
  
Good question. The only other person he'd ever trusted so instinctively had been. . . .  
  
_Shut up,_ Duo told himself viciously. _That's in the past._  
  
He strode across the carpeted floor silently, the thick surface muffling his footsteps. Making no noise was a habit to him, but Zechs' head still snapped up as soon as he began moving.  
  
Uncharacteristically, Duo said nothing as he entered the kitchen, merely sitting down at the table across from Zechs. The blond man stared at him silently for a moment, before turning back to the food sizzling on the stove.  
  
Duo could see it now, and his mouth started watering. Pancakes!  
  
"Hungry?"  
  
"Wooh yeah!"  
  
Neither said anything more while Zechs dished out the previously cooked pancakes onto a plate and handed them to Duo. The braided man wasn't at the table, however – about the only part of him visible was his butt as he rummaged around in the cupboard.  
  
He surfaced a couple of seconds later with a huge and rather obviously fake smile plastered on his face, arms full of sugar, maple syrup, and a couple of lemons. "Here we go – the best of stuff for eating pancakes with!" he declared, dumping his load on the table and grabbing his plate, squeezing lemon juice liberally over it, then almost emptying the entire sugar supply he had with him on top of that. "You having any?" he asked Zechs, mumbling as he stuffed his loaded fork into his mouth.  
  
"In a moment," Zechs replied, trying not to gape as Duo attacked the pancakes like he hadn't eaten for a month.  
  
The whole atmosphere was awkward. Duo's smile was strained at the edges, and damned if Zechs could think of anything to say to ease the tension between them, leaving them both in an uncomfortable silence. Both were avoiding mentioning anything about that morning and the previous night, Duo out of embarrassment, and Zechs out of sheer courtesy. And the fact that he was finding it very hard to have any sort of antagonism towards Duo, despite the other man's words and actions.  
  
Searching desperately for something to relieve the tense silence that had fallen over the kitchen, broken only by the sizzling of the frying batter, Zechs blurted out the first thing that sounded remotely plausible as a topic of conversation. "Why were you put on this mission with me? You usually work with Quatre, don't you?"  
  
Duo swallowed and licked his lips before speaking. "Usually, yeah," he said, "but Q broke his arm on the last mission, and even if this mission was s'pposed to be really easy and all, Preventers regulations still states he can't go out into the field until his arms heals." He shrugged and ate another mouthful.  
  
Zechs digested that, then frowned. "If you don't mind me asking, why do you partner with Quatre? If he and Trowa are lovers, then I would have thought it more likely that they would want to back each other up on missions."  
  
Duo shrugged again. "According to Q, neither one of them wants to go on a mission with the other one because they'd be too caught up worrying about the other one to concentrate fully on the mission. Which is why Tro-Tro usually partners Wufei, and Q goes with me." He scooped more pancakes into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully for a moment. "That's probably why Wufei doesn't want to be anywhere near Sally when he's on a mission. Worrying about the person you love, and all."  
  
"And Heero left Preventers when he married Relena," Zechs murmured, mostly to himself.  
  
"Yep. See, she's got him wrapped round her little finger, and she doesn't realise it at all!" Duo snickered. "Prob'ly for the best. Lord knows what she'd get him to do if she did realise. . . ."  
  
Zechs ignored Duo, taking his own pile of pancakes and sitting down across from Duo, beginning to eat, much more slowly and with far more decorum than the American.  
  
Their short interlude of conversation had eased the tension between them somewhat, most likely due to Duo temporarily forgetting he didn't like Zechs since most of his attention was on his food. The blond man had noticed Duo did that occasionally – which led him to believe that Duo's 'hatred' of him was not as well-grounded the other man would like to believe.  
  
"So when we get out of this, I'll be back on roster with Q," Duo said suddenly, having followed a completely different line of thought to Zechs'. He grinned at the older man. "Which is good, 'cause I wouldn't want to be permanently partnered with you anyway."  
  
Or maybe he hadn't followed such a different line of thought.  
  
Zechs suddenly felt irritated. "Why? Because we're oh-so-in love?" he asked sarcastically.  
  
Duo snorted. "Not a chance in hell. Even if you do make really good pancakes."  
  
Zechs eyes him bemusedly. Such a bundle of contradictions Duo was – one minute insulting him, then next complimenting him.  
  
He really wished the man would make up his mind. This was beginning to give him a headache.  
  
**[End part 3]**  
  
Comments? 


	4. Part 4

**Author**: Anria  
**Warnings**: some violence in future parts  
**Pairings**: the beginnings of a Duo/Zechs thingy  
**Disclaimer**: do I look rich enough to own GW to you? (Hint: noooooooooooooo.)   
  


**Trust Part 4**

  
Zechs felt superfluous.  
  
He watched Duo, lying flat out on the floor muttering to himself over the disassembled computer components, and felt completely, truly, and utterly, useless. There was nothing for him to do that Duo hadn't already taken over – which at the moment consisted solely of trying to form a method of communication with the outside world. About all he could do was try to work out who was holding them, how many of them there were, and what they wanted, which had about as much purpose as looking for one grain of flour dropped in the Pacific Ocean.  
  
The blond man sighed heavily, eyes blurring slightly as he once again looked at the list on the piece of paper. There were always the usual suspects whenever there were rumours of terrorist activity, but those organisations were often simply a lot of bark and no bite. A couple of times they would get together and organise a small bomb strike, but those were almost always picked up by Preventers or the police and dealt with quickly. Most of the time they pranced around and postured, making speeches about their cause, but no one really did anything. People were just enjoying Relena's peace way too much to cause trouble.  
  
Zechs had been working on this for the past three days, and all he could think of was that it was a more radical branch of one of those organisations deciding to go about things their own way. It certainly didn't seem like a new bunch of lunatics – they kept a very close watch for even the slightest hint of any militaristic factions, and so for them to be this organised and get so far with their plan – whatever the hell that was – they had to be part of one the Preventers already knew existed and had stopped paying so much attention to when they hadn't done anything for a long time. It was virtually inconceivable that they just popped up out of nowhere without Une getting wind of it.  
  
As for their numbers, well, that was impossible to tell. There seemed to be a large amount of them, but estimating the total would require a lot more opportunities to see the men than had been given. Being frog-marched down a couple of corridors once and once only didn't exactly help much.  
  
He sighed again and set down his pen, grinding the heels of his palms into his eyes to try and make them focus. It didn't work, but that didn't stop him from trying.  
  
"Damn it!"  
  
Zechs' head jerked up at Duo's infuriated exclamation, staring bemusedly as the man threw down his makeshift screwdriver, fisting his hands into his braid.  
  
Looked like he wasn't the only one who was frustrated.  
  
Duo thrust himself to his feet and stamped off in the direction of the antechamber they had first been placed into. It was one of the few places in the apartment the braided man felt comfortable in; he seemed to equate a large amount of the rest of it with Zechs, and thus could not relax. Or rather, he could relax all too easily, which disturbed him.  
  
Zechs let out his breath and leaned back in his chair, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. The past few days had been tense, to say the least; Duo seemed to waver between being nice to him without realising what he was doing, being nice to him because of their 'truce', being nasty to him on principle (which Zechs still hadn't figured out), and being nasty to him because he suddenly remembered that he had been nice to him a moment before and he wasn't supposed to like him.  
  
Had he said before this was starting to give him a headache? Scratch that, he had a migraine just trying to keep up with the braided man's mood changes, never mind responding to whatever comment came out of his mouth.  
  
So far, he had worked out a couple of things. One, Duo wasn't being nasty to him because he disliked him as a person – quite the opposite in fact, he seemed to like him when he wasn't paying attention. Two, Duo trusted him, apparently against the man's better judgement. Three, whenever the American realised he was working on those two set of conditions, it was a toss-up between whether he would lay into Zechs instantly or suddenly remember a pressing engagement in the next room.  
  
All that indicated was that the man had some serious personal issues to work out. Having had more than his fair share of those, Zechs opted to be nice to him when he could and leave him alone when he appeared to need it. Heck knows he could have done with a little more consideration after the first Eve War, when working through his own problems.  
  
It suddenly occurred to him that being nice to Duo wasn't helping the man any.  
  
Zechs snickered. Well, it could be looked on as his own revenge for the comments he'd had to suffer over the past three days. His own way of not making the conclusions Duo had to come to any easier. The result of this was that the tension between them was palpable.  
  
He had to say, he was looking forward to the explosive argument that was bound to come in the next couple of days.  
  


**oOo**

  
Duo slammed the door to the antechamber behind him, before giving into his frustration and let out a short yell, hands fisted into his hair.  
  
This whole damn thing was going nowhere! It should have been stupidly easier to make a communicator, given his knowledge of machinery and mechanics, even if there was no telephone line to hook it up to. It should have taken no more than maybe a day at most, if there were a couple of glitches.  
  
Of course, all that was operating on the idea that he actually had the necessary tools. A screwdriver, a hammer, some strong gloves, a soldering iron. . . . The list went on and on.  
  
All he had to work with was a small bent piece of metal masquerading as a screwdriver.  
  
It was incredibly frustrating. Duo was not a person much given to patience, and time and time again he found himself having to remind himself to slow down, calm down, that if he threw the goddamn piece of shit against the wall it might eliminate their only chance of getting out of there.  
  
Zechs wasn't helping any.  
  
Sure, there wasn't much he _could_ do to help, in practical terms. Even if the man had a better knowledge of mechanics – which wasn't likely, considering that all throughout his life he had had people who would have looked after any mobile suits he used and therefore removed any possible practical knowledge he might have acquired, barring what the OZ Academy taught their students – he would have been completely useless as the delicate pieces they had to work with meant that there really wasn't much space to work in. That, more than anything, was most likely what was getting to Duo – the fact that he was finding his hands, which he had been so proud at being able to fix anything, to build anything, to be one of the few signs on his body that he was _ever_ going to get _taller_ – they were just too big for this job, at times.  
  
However, it didn't help that whenever Duo tried to start a harmless little argument that would blow away all the tension created from this fucked up mission, Zechs would just smile and nod at whatever insult he gave him and ask him what he wanted for lunch.  
  
Duo had the sudden wild thought that maybe that was how Sally coped with Wufei in one of his rants.  
  
He started giggling at the complete incongruity of the mental image of himself in the traditional white garments of Wufei's clan, hair yanked back tightly on his head, strutting around waving his hands in the air over some obscure point with Zechs sitting, smiling and nodding his head and his hair twisted into two pigtails.  
  
Duo put his face in his hands, smothering the hysterical giggles that gradually turned into sobbing gasps for air. The way things were going, he could actually see them ending up like that. Minus the bad hair styles.  
  
The thing was, he actually _liked_ Zechs. And that was causing him more frustration and mental angst than any other thing about the whole shitty situation.  
  
When Duo was mean, Zechs was nice. When Duo needed quiet, Zechs was quiet. When Duo needed to let his frustrations out, he provided a perfect opportunity. Hell, when Duo needed a _drink_ all he had to do was look up and there was the blasted man with a glass!  
  
It was causing him some serious problems. There was absolutely _nothing_ the man did that Duo could attack him for. He even held up well under some insults that had _Duo_ cringing, and he'd heard more than his fair share and had learned to take all of them with a pinch of salt. He never even mentioned the cuddling problem, even though they both knew it would send Duo cringing back into his shell if he did!  
  
"Why me?" Duo asked the ceiling, tilting his head back to study the opulent design. "Why _him_?"  
  
The ceiling didn't reply.  
  
Duo sighed and slumped in the nearest chair. He just wanted to go _home_, to forget this whole stupid mess and get on with his blasted life without the interference of one too-perfect Zechs bloody Merquise! Hell, he'd even settle for getting out of this apartment for five minutes!  
  
As if in answer to Duo's thoughts, the outer door opened. 


	5. Part 5

**Author**: Anria  
**Warnings**: some violence in future parts  
**Pairings**: the beginnings of a Duo/Zechs thingy  
**Disclaimer**: do I look rich enough to own GW to you? (Hint: noooooooooooooo.)   
  


**Trust Part 5**

  
Duo jumped to his feet as the door opened, instinct telling him to be on his guard. His mind was screaming at him, panicked, as he realised that Zechs may not have heard the door opening – and the damnable skeleton of a communications device was lying on the floor, plain for anyone to see who walked through to the main apartment. This information filtered through to his brain as he recovered from his surprise, and from some cache of stored intelligence and bravado, Duo formulated a plan. He found a cocky grin and slapped it on.  
  
In some ways, it was not a surprise who stood in the doorway. The stately brunet man who had spoken to him and Zechs when removing them from the cell entered, nodding politely to Duo. He seemed to be the one they were going to deal with the most. Well, him and the standard little group of unshaven thugs with machine guns that followed him in.  
  
Frankly, Duo would rather deal with the thugs any day than have to manage the aristocrat. At least he could predict how the thugs would act. Aristocrats were a mystery to him.  
  
"Come back to see if your prisoners are comfortable, have you?" Duo said a little too loudly, interrupting the brunet man as he opened his mouth to speak.  
  
The man frowned genteelly, as Relena was fond of doing at him, and then sighed. "I suppose I cannot complain over your words, Mr Maxwell," he said. "After all, 'prisoners' is a regrettably accurate description of yours and Mr Merquise's status here. I take it he is in the main body of the apartment?" the man gestured to the door.  
  
Duo shrugged easily. "Unless he's found some way of getting out of here he neglected to mention," he replied, still talking slightly too loud.  
  
The man nodded and gestured to the thugs. Duo knew better than to resist when four converged on him at once, and those irritating wrist-to-elbow cuffs were clamped on again. "Would you mind putting these on in front this time?" Duo asked on of the grunts manhandling his arms into the cuffs. "It's just that I really don't like feeling my arms are gonna get wrenched out of my sockets any minute."  
  
The grunt looked at the brunet man. He shook his head silently and moved into the main body of the apartment, taking four more grunts with him. How many of those were there? Oh wait, stupid question. All anyone ever really needed to know was 'enough'.  
  
_Yeah, like that'll satisfy Une._  
  
"Really, you'd think you'd be nice little terrorists and allow me a modicum of comfort," Duo complained, still talking too loudly. "Back in the good ol' days when I was the one blowing up bases, I still had enough humanity to make sure my prisoners were comfortable. Of course," he added thoughtfully, "considering I never took prisoners, that doesn't really mean much."  
  
One of the thugs whacked him on the back of the head. "Shut up, idiot," he growled.  
  
Duo mock-gasped. "It talks!"  
  
The thug's eyes narrowed and he raised his fist menacingly.  
  
"Johnson!" the aristocrat said sharply, catching the action as he walked back into the antechamber, the four grunts and a manacled Zechs following. "Do not let him provoke you."  
  
Duo pouted. "Aw, come on, I need a little fun. You keep me locked up with His Blondeness there and expect me not to go crazy? Let the man beat me up! It'd be more fun, for one thing!"  
  
The brunet's eyes narrowed and he walked slowly and deliberately to stand in front of the insolently grinning Duo. "Mr Maxwell," he said, "I am fully cognizant of your skills. I know the intense level to which you were trained. I do not understand what you hope to gain from such childish behaviour or how it would benefit you, but that does not mean I am stupid enough to believe it offers you no possible course of action. So I will warn you that if I hear another word come out of your mouth I will have you gagged. I am not a fool, and your idiotic mannerisms cannot trick me."  
  
Duo blinked at him. _Does he really think me pissing off the goons had any purpose?_ he wondered. _Come on, all I want is some entertainment!_  
  
"Enough of this." The man gestured to his grunts and swept out of the room, Duo and Zechs propelled along behind him. He strode easily through the maze of corridors, never once faltering or checking to see if he was going in the right direction.  
  
The room Zechs and Duo were shoved into was a melodramatic man's dream. Unlike the opulent hallways upstairs and the plain grey corridors in the lower levels of the complex, this room was almost entirely black. The lights were dimmed, creating looming shadows around the edges, and a single spotlight graced the centre of the room, highlighting the large vid-phone connection set up there. All it would show to the person on the other side of the communications would be whatever was in that single spot of bright light.  
  
Duo rolled his eyes. "Y'know, back when I was the one doing all the terrorising, you'd never catch me dead in a place like this. Too much melodrama, man, it belongs on a TV screen! Real life is more gritty than this—"  
  
"Shut him up," the brunet said to the thug on Duo's left. The modern-day Neanderthal nodded and slugged him in the jaw.  
  
The hit wasn't that hard, thanks to the awkward angle, but Duo still went flying backwards. The hold the thugs had on his arms meant that he didn't hit his head on the floor, but it was a particularly uncomfortable position to be in.  
  
"Mr Maxwell, if I cannot trust you to keep your mouth shut at all times during this communication, I will have my boys here find a _permanent_ way to keep you from speaking," the aristocrat told him firmly. "I am rapidly losing all patience with you, so do not push me."  
  
The part of Duo that was firmly self-destructive and just loved to hijack his mouth and get him into trouble forced an insolent grin to his face and began formulating words even as Duo was opening his mouth.  
  
They never made it out. Zechs caught Duo's eye over the brunet's shoulder, and the look in his eyes made the words die on Duo's tongue before they ever made it to his lips.  
  
The aristocrat, not having seen this exchange, only saw Duo start on one course of action and apparently think the better of it. He smiled a little cruelly, and stepped back. "Thank you for your cooperation," he told the American, turning around to face the vid-phone. He waved his hand negligently, and the thugs yanked both Preventers back into the darkness outside the circle of light.  
  
From the startled face that popped up on the screen, the aristocratic terrorist had somehow managed to get hold of Relena's personal com line.  
  
"Mrs Peacecraft-Yuy," he said pleasantly. "I apologise for the abruptness of this call, but I believe you can most likely figure out what it is about."  
  
The surprise vanished from Relena's face as she composed herself. ::"Yes, I believe I can,":: she said neutrally. ::"However, I would like to know who I am addressing."::  
  
"How remiss of me! You may call me Falcon—"  
  
Duo's eyes bugged out of his head. _Shit!_  
  
"—and I represent the Blackbird revolutionist group."  
  
Duo caught Zechs' eye around the thugs. He looked as grim as Duo felt, and shook his head to Duo's unspoken question. He had had no idea, either.  
  
The Blackbird revolutionist group were the biggest thorn in the Preventers' proverbial ass since Dekim's failed takeover attempt. They were responsible for a large number of bombings on civilian buildings, and claimed credit for a whole load of others that had never been conclusively proven as having come from their organisation. Une had been trying to track them down for months – and she really, _really_ wanted to get her hands on 'Falcon', their leader. He was charismatic enough to collect a large following and ruthless enough to be responsible for the deaths of several hundred children alone, not mentioning the adult civilian men and women. The Preventers had been unable to track them down and eliminate them as of yet because they changed location so often, and members often had a ridiculous amount of loyalty to their cause. What exactly that cause was had been covered in a tonne of propaganda and bullshit until about all they had been able to make out was that Falcon wanted to take over most of the Earthsphere, and was glib enough to make people believe it was for their own good.  
  
And now he had some leverage, even weak as it was. . . .  
  
_Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!_  
  
Falcon was speaking again. "I see you have heard of us, Mrs Peacecraft-Yuy," he said pleasantly.  
  
Relena's mouth was compressed to a thin, hard line. ::"I understand that I am now speaking to the man responsible for the deaths of six hundred and seventy-two civilian men and women, not to mention four hundred and forty-six children."::  
  
The numbers were so unbalanced because the Blackbirds had once hit a public school of approximately five hundred children, killing the majority. It was just like Relena to have kept count.  
  
Duo stared hard at the screen, willing the woman to keep going in that fashion. As long as she remembered who she was dealing with—he may have disliked the woman personally, but as long as she kept her head he could rely on her to deny any requests Falcon might make.  
  
Falcon sighed. "Regrettable but necessary," he said to the blonde woman. "Their deaths will be remembered in honour once our cause is achieved."  
  
::"You killed four hundred and forty-six _children_. I highly doubt you will or any other of your group will be remembered as anything other than murderers."::  
  
Duo mentally applauded.  
  
Relena wasn't finished yet. ::"I refuse to have anything to do with you and your 'group'.":: She put even more sneer into that last word than she did into Duo's name. For once, he didn't mind.  
  
Falcon smiled unpleasantly. "I think you misunderstand me, Mrs Peacecraft-Yuy. After all, I do have something which you hold very dear."  
  
::"What are you talking about?":: Relena was obviously losing patience.  
  
Falcon made another of those hand-waving gestures, and as if they knew what he was thinking the thugs holding Zechs and Duo brought them forward. Duo opened his mouth to say something – he wasn't quite sure what, but these things usually came to him as he was saying them – until Falcon caught his eye, and Duo slowly closed his mouth again. Who knows, he might need his big mouth later.  
  
Turning back to the screen, the aristocrat-cum-terrorist smiled to see the shocked look on Relena's face. "Did the Preventers neglect to inform you of your brother and Mr Maxwell's disappearance?" he asked in tones of mock concern. "Tut, tut, tut."  
  
::"Relena?"::  
  
Duo's head snapped up as he peered into the background of the screen. Well, now he knew they were safe – Heero would never let his wife give out any information of any kind or agree to any deal.  
  
"Mr Yuy!" Falcon said with false cheer. Everything about the man seemed fake. "How nice of you to join us." It was fairly obvious he was displeased – he must have realised the same thing as Duo.  
  
On the screen Heero leaned over Relena's shoulder and peered into the darkness surrounding the spotlight with practised ease. Eventually his eyes came to rest on Duo, and he quirked an eyebrow in silent question.  
  
_Blackbirds,_ Duo mouthed to him. _Making communicator. One way. Une. Track signal. Victoria base area, maybe._ He shut up again, knowing Heero would get the message and alert the Preventers.  
  
"A list of our demands are being sent to you as we speak," Falcon was saying smoothly, not pausing for a moment. "I trust you will agree to all of them, if you wish to see either of these young men again."  
  
"Don't," Zechs said.  
  
::"We won't,":: Heero said.  
  
Falcon span around and glared at the blond man, his mask of gentility breaking momentarily. Then he smiled unpleasantly and turned back to face Relena and Heero. "I do so hate violence," he told them, "but on occasion it is necessary to make a point." He raised a hand and flicked the wrist, and the thugs holding Duo hauled him back into the darkness. "Please show Mr and Mrs Peacecraft-Yuy what they will be subjecting their loved ones to if they do not comply with our demands."  
  
Two of the four thugs holding Zechs let go of his arms and moved in front of him. Relena frowned slightly, a little confused, while Heero's eyes narrowed in a glare.  
  
One of the thugs balled his hand into a fist and slammed it into Zechs' gut, forcing him to double over. Zechs made a small, odd choked noise of pain, but set his jaw and refused to give any other sign that could be taken as a weakness.  
  
Duo had known what was coming as well as Heero, but seeing it brought a stronger reaction than he was anticipating. "Fuck no!" he yelled, wrenching his was forwards to the circle of light. "No! Fuck no! I don't care who he is, no one deserves that! You fucking bastard!" he screamed as he was dragged backwards, kicking and thrashing madly.  
  
"Gag him," Falcon said coolly. Duo continued to scream obscenities until two thugs pried his jaws open and shoved a rolled-up ball of cloth in there, tying it to his mouth with a second.  
  
::"You can't do this!":: Relena cried over the comlink. ::"Stop it!"::  
  
Falcon ignored her. Meanwhile, the two other thugs were systematically beating the shit out of Zechs. The torso seemed to be their favourite, although one had given a couple of good blows to his legs. The blond man was steadfastly enduring it, refusing to make a sound or show more evidence of pain than he had to. Barely a flicker showed in his expression.  
  
After a moment, Falcon nodded to the other two men holding Zechs, and they stepped back. The man sagged on his feet and staggered a little, showing how much he strength he had lost in that he had been relying on them to hold him up. Duo fell silent, watching Zechs struggle to stand on his own, an unnameable emotion churning in his stomach.  
  
Falcon had apparently turned the comlink onto mute, as he could see Relena screaming, but there was no sound in the room other than the dull thud of punches that Zechs wasn't even trying to avoid hitting his flesh. Every so often a small involuntary gasp of pain made its way past his lips, and Duo wasn't sure he even knew he was making them.  
  
It was obvious that the four men beating him were nearing the level Zechs could take and stay conscious. One of them kicked him to the back of the knees and his legs crumpled, dropping him to the floor with a thud before he keeled over, cheek pressed to the metal. It was a particularly submissive position – or a provocative one, depending on how you looked at it. His body balanced on his knees and cheek, ass up in the air, blue eyes glazed and staring at nothing, and Duo prayed that they would stop now he was barely conscious. He felt an inordinate amount of pride in the other man, a pride which made absolutely no sense because he hated him, didn't he?  
  
One of the thugs moved closer and slammed his heel onto Zech's his back, dragging him onto his side harshly. It caught on his arm at an odd angle, and the sickening crack echoed throughout the room.  
  
"That's enough, boys," Falcon's urbanely cultured voice seemed to come out of nowhere. One of them picked Zechs up and propped him on his shoulder as Falcon turned the sound back on the comlink. Relena had stopped screaming and was now sobbing into her husband's shoulder while Heero glared daggers at the terrorist. His expression was somewhat at odds with the comforting hold he had on Relena, his hand petting her blonde hair.  
  
"I regret that that was necessary," Falcon said. "However, I believe you needed proof of our intentions. Mr Merquise will be seen to, do not fear, but if our demands are not met within a week there will be a more unpleasant call made. Good day, Mr and Mrs Peacecraft-Yuy."  
  
The screen went blank.  
  
"Take Mr Maxwell back to his quarters," Falcon said to the thugs holding Duo. They nodded and began hauling him off, but not before he heard the man say, "Mr Merquise held up remarkably well. Take him to the medical bay to have his arm set, and then return him to his quarters."  
  
The march back to the apartment that Duo and Zechs had been living in came in a blur. All Duo could see was that boot connecting with Zechs' arm, the sickening crack, and the unnatural angle it had been left at, bone poking through the pale skin. He thought Zechs had passed out with that last hit, and was glad of it.  
  
He couldn't help feeling that somehow this was his fault.  
  
Logically that was ridiculous, he knew. He pondered it, focusing all his attention on the problem while he was shoved into the apartment and the cuffs were wrenched off him. He barely acknowledged the ache that came from being able to move his arms freely after being in an uncomfortable position for so long. He ignored the odd jarring sensation that came when the makeshift ball gag was wrenched from his mouth, and hardly registered the slamming of the door.  
  
Somehow . . . he felt this was his fault.  
  
He should have spoken up sooner. Then Falcon's attention would have been moved to him and Zechs wouldn't have had to have taken a beating. He knew he had had worse ones than that – he knew he could take it. When you were a street rat, it was sink or swim and there were few lessons. One of them was learning how to take a beating. He'd had enough of them, he should know.  
  
He didn't think Zechs had ever been systematically beaten up before.  
  
Somehow that made it worse.  
  
What was even worse than _that_, though was that something in his mind was telling him he shouldn't care. Because he hated Zechs. Because the man was a pain in the backside. Because . . . because. . . .  
  
Duo wondered if this was the first time he had ever let himself look at the real reason he hated Zechs.  
  
And it just made him feel worse.  
  
Because. . . .  
  
It was so goddamn _petty_.  
  
Duo sank to the floor where he stood, leaning against the wall, eyes staring blindly at nothing. He kept seeing the thug break Zechs' arm, over and over again, hearing the crack and hating himself an awful lot right then. He'd made this worse for the man than it had to be. He wasn't the only one who'd been kidnapped, after all! He'd been rude, and impolite, and just downright nasty, and the man had taken it all in stride and hardly said anything in defence of himself.  
  
And then he'd got the shit beaten out of him.  
  
And all Duo had done was make it worse, because there was really nothing about Zechs he truly disliked. Despite his whacked-out time at the end of the first Eve War, he really wasn't a bad guy. He had far more patience than Duo, for one thing, and he found time to be nice even under intense pressure.  
  
And Duo treated him like shit.  
  
For a small, stupid, _petty_ reason.  
  
It just . . . hadn't seemed like that at the time.  
  
At the _time_ it was a perfectly good reason. After all, he'd never expected to actually meet Zechs, let alone work with him, so it was perfectly all right.  
  
But he'd let it get so . . . so _ingrained_, and now he had made things worse for the man by not letting go.  
  
Duo made up his mind.  
  
He'd have to make it up to him.  
  
Somehow.  
  
Even as he thought that, the door opened for the second time that day. 


	6. Part 6

**Author**: Anria  
**Warnings**: some violence in future parts  
**Pairings**: the beginnings of a Duo/Zechs thingy  
**Disclaimer**: do I look rich enough to own GW to you? (Hint: noooooooooooooo.)   
  


**Trust Part 6**

  
As soon as Duo caught sight of a pale fall of hair spilling over the edge of the stretcher, he was on his feet and charging straight towards Zechs, only to collide with an immovable mountain of Thug.  
  
"Get the fuck out of my way!" he yelled, squirming and struggling to get to Zechs even as the goon grabbed his arms and began forcefully moving him backwards. Duo stared after the stretcher as a man in a white lab coat directed the goons carrying it to move the unconscious man into the main body of the apartment. "Shit, let go of me!"  
  
"Mr Maxwell." Suddenly, the man in the lab coat was in front of him, pressing a packet of pills into his hand. "Give him one every four hours, no more, no less. The cast is not to become wet."  
  
Duo stared at the packet, going still. Painkillers. Possibly mixed with sedatives and God knows what else.  
  
_I_ HATE _pills._  
  
Pills had always represented death to him. If you needed to take them, you were ill. If you took them you died. But more than anything else, they took away your control. Control had always been very important to him, and he had a feeling it was for Zechs as well.  
  
_I'll ask him_ before _I give him the bloody pills. So ner._  
  
If Duo wasn't in such a serious mood, he would have burst out laughing at the sheer childishness of his last thought. However, it seemed like he'd been in a permanently serious mood for the past few days, and wasn't likely to come out of it any time soon.  
  
When he looked up, the goons and the doctor had gone. Shaking himself and berating himself for the lack of awareness, he slammed into the main body of the apartment, eyes roving swiftly to catch sight of Zechs through the bedroom door, lying on the bed. He marched through, about to demand the man's opinion on the drugs, and stopped dead.  
  
Zechs was asleep. The long blond hair spilled out over the bedcovers, bruised face nestled against the pillows. He had a split lip and a black eye, Duo noticed. Funny, he hadn't seen anyone hit him in the face.  
  
Duo's eyes ran slowly down the length of his companion's body. The shirt was dirtied and ripped, one sleeve cut away to make room for the cast. It was partially unbuttoned, allowing him to see the developing bruises on the pale skin underneath, a few spots of dried blood spattering both skin and clothes. All in all, the elegant ex-Prince of Sank was a certified mess.  
  
Despite that, he was gorgeous.  
  
Duo jumped at the thought and hurriedly backed out of the room. Shutting the door, he leaned against it, staring into space.  
  
Zechs Merquise, gorgeous?  
  
Well, yeah, of course he was. But Duo never expected that to _mean_ anything.  
  
It would be like Heero. Sure, the guy was very attractive, and Duo knew that objectively, but that didn't mean he was attracted to him. Come to think of it, he'd always gone more for . . . blonds. . . .  
  
_Gah! Shut up!_  
  
He shoved away from the bedroom door, clutching his scalp with his hands. This was the absolute _last_ thing he needed!  
  
_Okay, Duo, calm down. Everything will be okay if you just calm down._  
  
Duo forced himself to lower his hands and take deep breaths, shutting his eyes for a moment. He stood there in complete silence for a while, slowly taking in a breath, holding it and letting it out. When he felt he was calm again, he opened his eyes.  
  
"First things first," he muttered, and set about scouring the apartment for cushions, pillows, anything that would make his injured companion more comfortable. He felt a little guilty about keeping a pillow and a blanket back for himself once he'd found the airing cupboard, [1] but he wasn't going to risk getting so cold in the middle of the night he'd climb in the same bed and accidentally knock the man's arm. They were on bad enough terms already.  
  
He rather carefully avoided thinking about the other reason he didn't want to stay in the same bed as Zechs.  
  
Duo quietly deposited his armful of pillows and blankets at the foot of the bed and retreated quickly from the room. He shut the door behind him and leaned against it, staring blankly, before his stomach brought him back to Earth with a loud growl.  
  
Despite his distress from a short while before, Duo chuckled. "Looks like one of us knows what he's doing," he murmured, and set off to raid the kitchen.  
  
An omelette and two pieces of toast later, Duo found himself back in the living room sprawled on the floor with the skeleton of the communications device laid out in front of him. He had found it stuffed down the back of one of the sofa cushions, and was peering at it, trying to make out any damage. He couldn't see any, but his mind was only half on the job. The other half was quite stubbornly insisting on contemplating the situation with Zechs.  
  
_I wonder when he's going to wake up. The doctor guy said to give him one of the pills every four hours, but it's only been three so far. . . . I wonder if he wanted me to wake the guy up or if the pills should wear off every four hours._  
  
Duo scowled at the communicator. _Dammit, there is no point in continually wondering about these things. What's that phrase? Oh yeah, "time will tell." So don't think about it and get on with your work._  
  
He kept that firmly in mind every time some part of him tried to distract him form his task.  
  
Two hours later, Duo was engrossed in trying to remove a tiny lump of dirt that had got caught up in a fairly vital part of the communicator when he heard movement from the bedroom. He froze, straining his ears to be certain he had heard what he thought he had, and scrambled up from his position on the floor as it was confirmed.  
  
Bursting into the bedroom, he was confronted with the sight of Zechs trying to get out of the bed without moving his arm. The man was scowling, more in pain than in irritation, being as cautious of the broken bone as possible.  
  
"Don't move!" Duo cried out, rushing to the man's side and trying to shove him back into bed. "Anything you want, I'll get it for you! You need to rest!"  
  
Zechs glowered at him. "I want to go to the bathroom," he said. "I don't think you can help me with that."  
  
Duo froze, and promptly went bright red. His mouth flapped open and closed in a very good imitation of a goldfish, while evil little demons painted a picture in his head that was at once both horrifying and incredibly appealing. He squeaked and almost ran out of the room.  
  
Inside the bedroom, Zechs stared at the now-closed door, and shook his head. He wasn't even going to ask.  
  


**oOo**

  
Duo hid in the living room for a while, pretending to be engrossed in making the communicator. He was rather stubbornly ignoring any sort of thought that had to do with Zechs, knowing as soon as he did he would remember the mental image he'd had in the bedroom, and go bright red. Again. And then with his luck, Zechs would walk in the door right at that very moment and demand to know why he was blushing, which would just make him blush harder.  
  
So Duo was thoroughly ignoring the tiny part of his mind which had dragged out the image, put a couch in front of it, grabbed some popcorn and was openly drooling.  
  
He jumped when the bedroom door opened, whacking his head on the table beside him as he did so. "Aw, fuck," he whimpered, clutching a hand to his head and staggering upright. When he focussed again, Zechs was standing in the bedroom doorway giving him a look that was decidedly not friendly.  
  
Duo gulped and lowered his hand, standing up straight. _See? Even_ he _thinks it's your fault._  
  
"Have you eaten all the food in the apartment or am I finally allowed some sustenance?" the blond man demanded. Duo shook his head mutely and hurried into the kitchen, feeling incredibly small and not liking the sensation much.  
  
_Look on this as payback, Maxwell,_ he thought to himself. _You made him feel like this._  
  
Zechs followed him into the other room and sat in one of the chairs, cradling his arm and scowling at everything in sight. Duo avoided looking at him as he hurriedly made an omelette – the fastest thing he knew how to cook – so he could get the hell out of the kitchen ASAP.  
  
Zechs muttered a "thank you" at him as he deposited the plate in front of the man, and leaned forward to eat. Duo was about to leave when he saw the other man wince and reposition his arm so it wasn't knocking against the table, as it had been in his previous position. This prompted him to speak.  
  
"Um, Zechs," he said hesitantly, then blurted the rest out in a rush. "The doctor who brought you in gave me some pills and said to give them to you every four hours but I thought I'd ask you first since I don't know what's in them or what they'll do but it's pretty likely they're painkillers so if you want some I can go get them and—"  
  
Duo's mouth slammed shut as two piercing blue eyes turned to look at him. His instincts were screaming at him to run, but his muscles were petrified solid. He would never have had this sort of reaction usually, but this situation was far from a usual one – he was determined not to offend the other man again, and since he was standing on fairly shaky ground anyway from his previous association with him and the man's current bad mood, any time he felt the slightest bit threatened he froze. He didn't know what else to do.  
  
"You had these pills since before I woke up," Zechs said flatly.  
  
"Yes," Duo squeaked.  
  
"You knew I was going to be in pain the moment I woke up."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then why in God's name did you not give them to me?!"  
  
"I'll go get them now," Duo squeaked, and fled. _Shit, this is worse than I thought it would be,_ he thought morosely as he retrieved the pills. He paused outside the kitchen door, and readied himself to deposit the pills on the table and run as quickly as possible.  
  
He made it as far as the door again on his way out before Zechs stopped him. "Duo," he called.  
  
Duo froze, then forced himself to unfreeze and slowly turned around. He plastered what he hoped was close to an inquisitive expression on his face, since he knew if he tried to talk his voice would decide to pretend someone had just grabbed his balls and squeezed.  
  
Zechs dropped his fork and sighed, rubbing his eyes. For the first time, Duo noticed the thin lines of tension at the edges of his mouth and the crease between his brows, signs that the man was suffering pain and trying not to let it show. "I'm sorry, Duo," he said. "I didn't mean to snap. I'm just not used to dealing with this continual ache – I can deal with pain over a short period of time, but any longer and my control snaps." He raised his head, giving his companion a rueful smile. "Thank you for the pills and the omelette."  
  
Duo blinked at him, and summoned enough presence of mind to stammer out, "You're welcome," before he fled into the relative safety of the living room.  
  
Sinking to the floor beside the shell of a communications device, he stared blindly into space for a while.  
  
_Shit, Maxwell. You can never take the easy path, can you?_  
  


**oOo**

  
[1] Airing cupboard – I'm not sure if anyone else has these, but in our house we put towels and bedcovers and stuff in there right over the boiler so it stays all nice and warm and fluffy. I just used it because that's where if we had any spare blankets or pillows they'd be. 


	7. Part 7

**Author**: Anria  
**Warnings**: some violence in future parts  
**Pairings**: the beginnings of a Duo/Zechs thingy  
**Disclaimer**: do I look rich enough to own GW to you? (Hint: noooooooooooooo.)   
  


**Trust Part 7**

  
The next couple of days were tense. Zechs' broken arm made him waspish and volatile, snapping at anything stupid enough to get in his way, be it a chair he knocked into, the shower for being so bloody difficult to use when you only had one hand, or Duo, just for being there. He was quite definitely _not_ the most agreeable of people when in pain.  
  
The worst part of it was that Duo had no idea how to deal with him. If he had been still convinced that Zechs was a horrible person (even if it was for a reason he wouldn't let himself look at) then he would have had no problem being snippy back. Even if he had had no prior opinion of the man, he would have given as good as he got. But the thing was, he had promised himself he would be nice, which most of the time meant gritting his teeth and moving to another room.  
  
_Turnabout is fair play, Maxwell,_ he thought bitterly to himself.  
  
Besides his broken arm, Zechs' foul mood came from having absolutely nothing to do. Duo had taken apart the TV and computer in order to make the communicator, and there were only five books in the apartment, so Zechs was left sitting with both thumbs up his arse and not very happy about it, too. He was imaginative, but not quite imaginative enough to keep himself occupied the way Duo could – the American could quite happily entertain himself staring out of a window for hours on end, just thinking. It was how he'd amused himself when he was younger, when Father Maxwell had made him go to school. That imaginative mind had come back to haunt him at other times, but most of the time it was a boon. Contrary to popular opinion, he didn't need to be moving around all the time to be content; he was fine sitting and letting his mind run wild. Of course, there was always the overriding compulsion afterwards to go and _do_ whatever he'd dreamed up (like setting up mini catapults with water balloon missiles in Heero's cockpit, set to go off as soon as the door opened) but that just gave him more things to occupy his time with.  
  
Duo sighed and wrenched his mind back on track. Of course, one of the other irritating things about an active imagination was its tendency to make his mind wander. Luckily for him he hadn't made any fatal errors while he'd been thinking about completely irrelevant things.  
  
Duo winced as the end of the wire he was trying to bend into a tight, curling spiral dug into his thumb. Lifting it, he scowled at the drop of blood that appeared, then stuck his thumb in his mouth. "Damith," he muttered around the digit.  
  
"What's the matter, Maxwell? Can't even bend wires now?"  
  
Duo scowled at the communicator past his thumb and sank his teeth into the flesh, willing himself not to reply. _You're trying_ not _to piss the man off, remember?_  
  
Zechs appeared to be in one of his worse moods, as Duo heard him take a step into the room. "Answer me," he growled out.  
  
Duo took his thumb out of his mouth and tried to take a calming breath. _Blowing up at him will not help. Just answer "yes" or "no" to everything he says and he'll be pissed off, but hopefully he'll go away before you really lose it._  
  
"I'm not your fucking slave, Merquise!"  
  
_Ah, shit._  
  
Since his mouth had decided on a course of action for him, Duo realised there was no option but to follow it through. He stood up and turned to face Zechs, hands balling into fists as he took the leash off his temper.  
  
Zechs took another step forward, his face darkening ominously. If it came to a fight – which it undoubtedly would do, considering the anger they were both bottling up – the blond man had the advantage in height, weight, and reach. But he was currently handicapped, and Duo had no qualms about fighting dirty. His black eye had healed, and Duo found himself with a deep desire to replace it.  
  
"What was that?" Zechs said, his voice a little too calm.  
  
Duo lifted his chin. "You heard me." It felt so good to finally start ignoring that annoying part of him that filled him with guilt every time he thought of the blond man. So good to start dishing it out again. And hopefully this time it would end in them beating the crap out of each other.  
  
"Yes, I heard you. Talking like the stupid little good-for-nothing street trash you are – do you know how to speak without filling it with profanities?"  
  
Duo snarled and stepped forward, leaning his body towards Zechs. He was itching to punch the older man right in his too-pretty mouth just to get him to _shut up_. "As opposed to you, sitting on your fucking high-and-mighty throne talking as much crap as I do in prettier words? Don't make me fucking laugh. At least I know what life is. You're too much of a goddamn high society princeling to know what it's like to get your hands dirty!"  
  
"That's a lie and you know it." Zechs took a step towards him, and suddenly there was barely a foot between them, icy blue staring down into Duo's narrowed eyes. The barest hint of a snarl curved Zechs' fine-cut features.  
  
"Prove it," Duo growled, and lunged.  
  
He took Zechs by surprise and his shoulder crashed into the other man's chest, knocking them both backwards a short way. He didn't have time to build up much momentum, so the blow was weak and Zechs stayed on his feet. He kicked Duo's legs out from under him savagely, adrenaline pumping.  
  
Duo landed heavily on his back and felt the air exit his lungs in a loud whoosh. Snarling, he didn't give himself time to take a breath before he kicked out and slammed Zechs over as well. There was no way in hell he was losing to this son of a bitch. He rolled away and onto his feet before the other man had time to get up, dropping into a defensive stance.  
  
Zechs was up a bare second after him, lunging at him with a wild punch towards his face. Blocking it left Duo open to another kick, and he crashed backwards into a table, knocking it over and breaking it in two, his body slamming into the floor behind it.  
  
"You're not living up to your reputation, Maxwell," Zechs said, taking a moment to taunt the smaller man. "Is that all you've got?"  
  
Duo's expression turned ugly as he got to his feet. "Fuck no," he said, kicking the remnants of the table out of the way. "I was just going easy on you because you're injured. But if you don't want me to do that any more. . . ."  
  
Zechs' eyes narrowed. "Stop talking, Maxwell."  
  
Duo bared his teeth and ran at the other man in a blind charge, dodging a blow to his shoulder and knocking them both over onto the carpet. Grabbing a fistful of the other man's loose hair, he slammed his head into the floor, then punched him in the stomach. Zechs choked but struck back, his rigid cast hitting Duo in the chest and knocking the wind out of him. Judging from the way Zechs made a small, half-smothered choking noise Duo thought it had to have hurt him more than the brunet, and balled his hand into a fist, ready to hit him where he hurt the most.  
  
Zechs saw the move coming and blocked it with his shoulder, gritting his teeth and ignoring the vibrations that jarred his broken arm. He quickly grabbed Duo's wrist and wrenched his arm backwards, twisting it until Duo cried out, concentration breaking. Using the advantage of his greater height and weight, Zechs forced Duo onto his front and pinned one of his arms with his knee, keeping the other one wrenched up behind Duo's back. Panting, he leaned forward to whisper into the smaller man's ear. "Not such a hotshot now, are we?"  
  
Duo yelled inarticulately and bucked hard, thrashing and trying any way he could think of to get the older man off. It made him so _angry_ to have been beaten! Zechs gritted his teeth and held on, ignoring the way his already aching body protested the violent movements.  
  
"You BASTARD!" Duo yelled, twisting and lashing into Zechs' grip. "You fucking BASTARD! I HATE YOU, YOU HEAR ME! _I **HATE** YOU_!"  
  
It pissed Zechs off for no reason he could see. "What do you mean, you hate me?" he snarled, transferring the grip on the arm he held wrenched up behind Duo's back so he could pin it with his knee. Once his good hand was free, he grabbed a handful of Duo's hair and yanked his head up. "What the fuck do you mean, you hate me? What in God's name did I _ever_ do to _you_?"  
  
"ARSEHOLE!" Duo yelled, trying to twist his head in the man's fierce grip so he could spit in his face, the words pouring out of his mouth as though some dam inside him had been broken. "You don't fucking KNOW? _You_ were always the one! _You_ were the one who killed them! They all died because of _you_! They were fucking children! _**I**_ was a fucking child! It's all fucking because of YOU! Everything that happened – everything that turned me into a killer – was YOUR FAULT!"  
  
And suddenly he slumped, the fight vanishing from his body. His head dangled limply in Zechs' grip. "Except it wasn't," he murmured, his voice so low Zechs had to strain to hear it. "It wasn't you."  
  
As Zechs watched, shocked and confused by what Duo had said, something small and sparkling fell from Duo's face to the carpet. And then another joined it. And another. And then Duo made a small, choking noise and he suddenly realised that the man was crying.  
  
Zechs nearly threw himself backwards, scrambling away from the other man. He had no idea what had set this off, none at all, and never expected Duo to react in this way. He got angry, yes, he got pissed off far too easily, but nothing ever seemed to hurt him. Not to the point that he'd cry about it.  
  
After a moment Duo rolled over, raising a forearm to press across his eyes. He hiccupped, and then spoke so low that Zechs knew he wasn't talking to him, was only talking to himself, or perhaps some past demon not yet excised. "Stupid . . . boys don't cry . . . that's what she said . . . she told me . . . boys don't cry. . . ."  
  
"Men do," Zechs said quietly, not even thinking until the words came out of his mouth.  
  
Duo laughed, a harsh, almost broken sound. "Yeah, men might cry – but what kind of man am I, hating someone for something they didn't even do. . . ." he trailed off, clenching his jaw.  
  
Zechs frowned, easing himself into a position that didn't stress the aches in his body that their fight had only reawakened, leaning against one of the sofas. "Duo," he began, "I think it's time you explained to me why you hate me."  
  
Duo was silent for a moment, and then he sighed. "Yeah," he said softly. "Yeah."  
  
Duo sat up and scooted back a short distance to lean against the wall, bringing his knees up and dangling his forearms from them. He stared fixedly at a spot between his feet, steadfastly not looking at Zechs. He was silent so long that the blond began to wonder if he should say something, but before he could take a breath Duo spoke.  
  
"I've never told anyone else this in my life and if you breathe a word to anyone about it I really will beat the shit out of you," he said abruptly, still staring at the floor. "Just wanted you to know that before I start. I mean, Prof G knew about it, but then that was just 'coz the old bastard knows everything." Zechs wasn't sure if he imagined the fondness in Duo's tone for G or not, but he didn't interrupt. He had a feeling that if he did, he'd never find out the reason why Duo hated him. Or the reason why he thought he did.  
  
Duo leaned his head back against the wall and swallowed wetly. His eyes were already red-rimmed, and he stared at something far away Zechs knew he'd never be able to see. As he began his story, his voice took on a less polished tone, caught in memories.  
  
"When I was a kid, I really was a tried and true street rat. Never knew anything apart from it. Didn't even have a name – whatever bitch or whore spawned me must've chucked me out with the trash before she had to tax her brain enough to give me one. Anyway, I met up with this other kid, Solo. He was smart, much smarter than me, and he knew that if all of us street kids stuck together then it'd mean we were less likely to get hurt or caught. I was kinda Solo's protégé – he took a real shine to me. And I adored him, followed him everywhere.  
  
"A few years later, Solo heard rumours that on another colony there was food going free and lots of money to be earned or stolen, all real quick. So he stuffed me and a couple of other kids on a shuttle and we hid there until we got to the colony. The other kids didn't make the journey – we didn't have much food, and it was too cold where we hid. Benny was sick anyway, guess the others must have caught it. So it was just me and Solo who snuck off the ship same way we came in, all for exploring the new colony.  
  
"It was a shithole. Dawned on us real quick that no matter where we went, we always ended up in the same parts – the parts where no one gave a fuck about you unless you had some kind of hold over them, even if it was just that you were bigger than they were. But there were other kids like us there, so we started over with a new gang. But even though we were living in hell, I was happy – I had Solo, I had the gang. They were family. Solo was talking about letting me be second leader under him, since I had a way with the others.  
  
"But then there was the plague. Swept all over the colony, killed anyone who didn't have the vaccine. Some of the kids caught it . . . and so did Solo. We looked after them as best we could, but the Alliance was in charge of handing out the vaccine and they weren't going to hand it to some stupid street rat kids." The bitterness in Duo's voice was alarming. "We asked the soldiers, we begged them, and in the end some OZ captain turned to me and said 'We aren't giving the likes of you the vaccine. Go and die like the scum you are.' And they did. Damn near all but me. I stole some of the vaccine near the end, but it was too late – too late for Solo. I wouldn't have cared if the others died, as long as Solo didn't leave me." Duo's voice cracked on the last few words, and he choked and shut his eyes, tears squeezing through them to run down his face. "But he knew he was gonna die, and made me promise to take the vaccine and look after the rest of the kids, the ones who survived. I couldn't break a promise, especially not to Solo.  
  
"We got taken by some cops after that. They said they were gonna put us in an orphanage, but all I could think of was that stupid OZ captain, and how if he'd just given scum like us the vaccine Solo would still be alive. I started hating them then.  
  
"We got taken to the orphanage, and it was – it was—" Duo stopped. "It was nothing like what I'd been expecting. The priest, Father Maxwell, he looked at me, and he _saw_ me and not some street kid just like any other and told me that I could do great things, that I was worth something. Him and Sister Helen – they were like the mother and father I'd never had. I never got adopted out of the orphanage, I made sure of that, even though all the rest of the gang left. We had a rough start, but I loved them anyway.  
  
"Then the terrorists came. They took over the church, and the orphanage, and told the Alliance that they wanted a mobile suit before they left us alone. They said if they got one they'd leave. So I went and stole them their fucking mobile suit. A ten-year-old kid.  
  
"When I got back, the Church was in ruins. OZ had bombed the place rather than give a mobile suit to terrorists. They had killed over two . . . hundred . . . fucking . . . _children_, just to make a fucking example. Father Maxwell was dead. Sister Helen was dead. My whole fucking family was gone, and _again_ it was OZ's fault. OZ was the ones who had killed them.  
  
"After that I met up with Prof G, and he offered me a perfect was to get revenge. And I took it – I had to! I had to get revenge for Solo, and for Father Maxwell, and Sister Helen, and everybody else I'd ever known who'd all been killed by them. And when I started it was so easy because the hurt was new and I used that to fuel my anger, to keep me going and keep me fighting. . . . But then. . . ." Duo trailed off and scrubbed at his eyes with the edge of his shirt.  
  
"Then I started not hurting so much. Time heals all wounds, you know? But I _needed_ to keep going. I felt like they were all counting on me. And . . . it's so much easier to keep going when you have something to hate. But fuck it, have you ever tried hating a faceless organisation? Even when Khushrenada came into the limelight I couldn't hate him because _he_ wasn't the one who had killed my family. I couldn't ever see him carrying out any of his orders. Giving them, sure, but not being the one who interpreted 'Shut the rebels up' as 'Kill every civilian in the orphanage'.  
  
"But then. . . . You showed up.  
  
"You were the golden boy. You were the perfect little OZ soldier. You were what all of them wanted to be. They admired Khushrenada, looked up to him as a leader, but in the end you were the one they wanted to _be_. The one they were trying to be when they refused to give a couple of street rats a vaccine, when they blew up two, three hundred civilians in a church. And when I thought of it like that, it was so _easy_ to hate you. To put your face on that fucking captain who wouldn't give me the vaccine, on the men who blew up Maxwell Church. And it was _safe_ to hate you, because there was no way in hell we were ever going to meet face to face. It was always Heero you were fighting, Heero you chased after – I was never going to have to deal with you, and I had a focus for the hate that kept me going. I never hated you, I hated the ideal of you. And when you were dead it was easy, because the war was over and so were you so I could lay the hatred to rest."  
  
Duo stopped and swallowed, staring at his hands. "And then you turned up alive at the Mariemeia thing. And . . . and I needed to hate then as well so I could fight, so I figured, what's the harm? Even if we do work for the same people, we're never gonna see each other. And then, like before, I started the forget the reason – hell, I never really figured out the reason 'til a couple of days ago. My subconscious is a goddamn arsehole." His head hit the wall with a thunk, and after a moment he looked over at Zechs for the first time since he had begun talking. His blue-violet eyes were made all the more striking by the red rims around them, tear tracks evident on his face, and Zechs found he couldn't look away. "So now you know. The life of Duo Maxwell in a fucking nutshell."  
  
He was too proud to apologise, Zechs realised. Too proud to say two simple words, but then, so was Zechs. And he knew that even if Duo's pride would never let him say it, it didn't mean it wasn't there – didn't mean he wasn't sorry for the way he'd acted towards the older man. It was obvious in his face – that, and a need for forgiveness Duo probably didn't even realise he felt.  
  
And maybe . . . maybe he could give the other man something that no one had given to him. Something he dearly wished they had. Perhaps . . . perhaps he could help Duo, and at the same time, it would help him finally lay the last of his demons to rest because in a way, he would be talking to the him of six years ago.  
  
"I understand revenge," Zechs said quietly, knowing what Duo needed to hear, and he needed to say. "And I understand the hatred. You were lucky – your source lasted for the entire war and beyond. I killed mine a little before I left OZ, and look what came of that."  
  
Duo stared at him for a moment, his face gradually taking on an incredulous cast. "Are you . . . are you saying. . . ." Words failed him.  
  
Zechs sighed. "I think we have more in common than either of us realised. But I've learned to live without hate, to fight without hate . . . and I hope you can too."  
  
Zechs levered himself to his feet, wincing occasionally as a strained muscle or bruise made itself known. Walking – limping, really – over to Duo, he took a deep breath and reached out a hand.  
  
Duo stared at his hand, then at him. Zechs could see he didn't quite believe it would be this easy.  
  
Maybe because in the end, it wouldn't. But the first step was always at once both the easiest and the hardest.  
  
Duo took a deep breath, then reached out and took his hand. 


	8. Part 8

**Author**: Anria  
**Warnings**: some violence in future parts  
**Pairings**: the beginnings of a Duo/Zechs thingy  
**Disclaimer**: do I look rich enough to own GW to you? (Hint: noooooooooooooo.)   
  


**Trust Part 8**

  
Things weren't easy after that, not by a long shot.  
  
Duo was quiet and seemingly embarrassed by the words that had spewed out of his mouth to Zechs, never mind that the blond man was certain Duo couldn't have stopped them if he tried. But then again, it was always frightening to bare yourself completely to another person, to have them know everything about you, because then they knew where to hit to hurt the most. And their relationship had taken on another change, as Zechs' arm began to heal and the waspishness caused by pain faded, and Duo's antagonism completely disappeared. Once again the dynamic between the two of them had altered and even if this time it was for the better, it was a disconcerting change to get used to.  
  
It didn't help that the very next day Duo finished the communicator.  
  
It was an incredible stroke of luck that when they held their breath and tested it they found it sent a traceable signal on the private Preventers' frequency. Duo's washed-out grin was the first sign of joy he'd given since their fight the previous day.  
  
"We're gonna have to keep this up," Duo murmured to Zechs as he tapped out the SOS code. "I mean, sending it once isn't gonna be enough – we don't know when they'll pick up on it, or how long it'll take them to trace it. We've gotta do this twenty-four hours a day." He didn't sound particularly happy with the realisation.  
  
"How about taking it in shifts?" Zechs offered. "You do six hours, I do six hours."  
  
"We'll be bored as all hell," Duo snorted.  
  
"Then I'll just have to keep you entertained, won't I?"  
  
Duo stared at the blond incredulously. "Y'know, if it was anyone but you, I would've said that was a pickup line."  
  
Zechs burst out laughing at that, his rich voice sending chills up Duo's spine. Subsiding, he shook his head, amused. "Only you, Duo," he said, chuckling, "only you."  
  
And then he stood up and walked into the kitchen, and Duo was left to ponder what exactly that had meant.  
  
Unfortunately, that conversation was one of the very few times Duo forgot himself enough to loosen up and joke around with Zechs. Most of the time their exchanges were awkward and stilted, tense with the constant reminder of their fight in the bruises both of them sported. When Zechs took his turn tapping out the SOS on the communicator, Duo vanished and stayed in other parts of the apartment for the entire six hours – which the man took to mean that he was still uncomfortable in his presence, but for an entirely different reason this time.  
  
The six hour shifts of tapping the communicator were boring as hell. Zechs found himself slipping into a sort of trance, lulled by the rhythm he kept up on the communicator. His mind blanked out and he stared at the table, focusing on the patterns of grains in the wood.  
  
He had no idea how long he stayed like that, but he was abruptly jerked out of it when a plate of eggs slid into his vision, covering over the spot on the table he had damn near memorised. He looked up in time to see the tip of Duo's braid disappearing around the kitchen door, and smiled to himself before beginning to eat.  
  
They switched over at the end of Zechs' six hours, and Zechs decided that since Duo was too nervous to make the first conciliatory move, it was up to him – and so he sat next to Duo and made use of the talent for small talk Treize and years of moving among diplomatic circles had instilled into him. Duo's naturally talkative nature, however, was suppressed almost to non-existence by his fear that he would say the wrong thing and accidentally offend Zechs, ending up with them having to start all over again.  
  
Several painful hours of this passed, when suddenly Duo lifted his head and asked, "Do you hear that?"  
  
Zechs frowned, listening. It took a moment for him to hear it, but suddenly he was aware that off in the distance there was a very faint clanging and the unmistakeable sound of gunfire. He turned quickly to look at Duo. "Could it be the Preventers? Is there enough time for them to have traced the signal and done reconnaissance?"  
  
Duo rapidly calculated in his head. "If they caught the signal on the first day, yes," he said after a moment. He grinned and jumped to his feet, suddenly brimming with energy because _this_ was a situation he knew how to handle. "You up for some quick planning?"  
  
Zechs nodded. "We've probably got only a few minutes at most before they get here – securing the hostages is the first thing Falcon would think of," he warned.  
  
"Right," Duo agreed. "Most likely if the Preventers have arrived full force, he'll want to command these morons himself, though, so I'm reasonably sure he'll send his underlings at us instead. If you wait in the main apartment and tap away on the communicator, then hopefully when they find you they'll get pissed off and stop thinking straight. That's when I'll ambush one of them, grab his gun and see how many I can take down. Then we run for it."  
  
Zechs frowned. "It's got a lot of holes in it," he said dubiously.  
  
"Yeah, but we haven't got time for something flawless," Duo replied. "Have you got any—" He cut himself off as they heard the main door to the apartment slam open. Their eyes met for a split second before Zechs grabbed the communicator and Duo lunged for the door to the kitchen, barely getting it shut before two of Falcon's thugs armed with machine guns crashed into the main body of the apartment.  
  
Their eyes landed on Zechs, who did his best to look surprised. The one in the lead stalked up to the table and swept his arm across it, knocking the communicator in pieces to the ground and pointed his gun at Zechs' chest. "Stupid little fuck," he snarled. "Up against the wall! Check the rest of the apartment," the thug said to his companion before returning his attention to Zechs. "Face against the wall and arms up! Don't try anything, I've got my gun on you at all times!"  
  
Zechs stepped up to the wall, listening intently for Duo's first move as the thug prodded him with the tip of the gun, more out of belligerence than any real searching method.  
  
There was a sharp cry from behind him, and Zechs' captor stopped prodding him. He got as far as "What the fu—" before the blond man brought his plaster-encased elbow down on his head, hard. He fell to the floor with a satisfying thud that _almost_ made the sudden pain in his broken arm worth it.  
  
Duo was rapidly stripping the other man of his weapons, then yanked off his belt and tied him to the table leg. "It's not permanent, but it'll slow him down some when he wakes up," he said critically, eyeing his handiwork. Zechs picked up his captor's machine gun and routinely checked it over.  
  
Duo tossed him a small container and Zechs caught it without thinking. He looked at it and found it was the painkillers the Blackbirds' doctor had given him. Giving the other man a grateful grin, he shook out a couple and swallowed them dry.  
  
"Thought you might need those at some point," Duo grinned at him, eyes sparkling. Damn, but this was fun! "Here, let me get that guy." He grabbed the man Zechs had felled and tied him up rapidly, then stopped and frowned. "It would probably be a good idea to take their uniforms."  
  
"What are we waiting for, then?" Zechs asked impatiently.  
  
Duo eyed his arm. "Uh, are you going to be okay to change with that thing?"  
  
Zechs blinked and looked down at the cast, then gritted his teeth. "I'll manage," he said.  
  
Duo made short work of stripping the two men down, and quickly changed into their pilfered clothes. He watched Zechs struggle for a few moments, before rolling his eyes and taking over.  
  
"It'll go quicker this way," he said to Zechs' glare, bending down to shove the trouser legs inside the other Preventer's boots. Straightening, he grabbed his gun and he looked at Zechs. "You good to go?"  
  
"Lead the way," Zechs replied, settling his own machine gun into a professional grip and ignoring the pain in his arm. The painkillers would kick in soon, so there was no need to worry about it.  
  
Duo led the two of them out into the corridors, keeping them close together. If they were in a larger party Zechs suspected the smaller man would have gone scouting ahead to root out danger zones, but as it was it was safer for the two of them to keep going together. The blond man let Duo lead, and soon realised that they were gradually coming closer and closer to the source of the noise, and therefore closer and closer to the main battle.  
  
As they came to an alcove Duo ducked into it and crouched, gesturing for Zechs to do the same. He leaned in close to speak to him. "Most likely whoever's in charge of this mission will try to keep them all in the same building and all in the same spot," he breathed. "If the Blackbirds are allowed to disperse and the fighting ends up trailing into the halls some agents will end up dead in ambushes, so they're most likely throwing everything they have at one place. Have you seen anything familiar here? _Is_ this Victoria Base?"  
  
"Some things are familiar, most of it isn't," Zechs responded, eyes darting warily back the way they had come. "If it is Victoria we're most likely in the West wing. When I was here I spent most of my time in the command rooms and the East wing, which would explain why everything's familiar but I don't _know_ any of it."  
  
"Dammit," Duo muttered, scowling at the wall.  
  
"If the Preventers are throwing everything at one place, though, it's likely to be the hangars," Zechs continued on. "If so it doesn't really matter which hallway we go down, since damn near all of them lead there anyway."  
  
Duo snickered, finding that inappropriately funny. "All roads lead to Rome," he whispered.  
  
"There is a problem with that, though," Zechs said, frowning. "From what I recall, all the corridors in each wing converge into a hall on either side of the hangars, and those two are the only entrances from the base. They're both likely to be heavily guarded, so there's no way we could force our way through and we can't sneak around them since it's open ground for about fifty metres before you get to the doors."  
  
"Shit," Duo muttered. "Is there another way out of the base than through the hangars?"  
  
"Not that I recall," Zechs told him.  
  
"What about the ventilation system?" Duo asked him. "Cliché, I know, but it has to exit somewhere."  
  
Zechs shook his head. "It's an idea, but there's no way I could fit through it, especially not with this," he said, waving his cast at Duo. "The main vents were deliberately made small enough that even _you_ would have difficulty getting through. Which was the whole idea."  
  
Duo scowled. "Then we're stuck, unless you have some other information you've forgotten to tell me."  
  
Zechs grinned at him. "Not quite," he said. "I only said the main vents were made small, didn't I?"  
  
Duo eyed him warily. "What are you thinking?"  
  
"It's dangerous, but if I remember rightly larger vents were put in leading out to the hangars because some officers complained about wanting better ventilation, and it was deemed not a big enough security risk," Zechs told him. "We'd have to get quite close to the group defending the West wing hangar entrance, but if we can avoid being spotted we can easily slip into the hangar. There's enough cover there that we can make a break for the exit."  
  
Now Duo was grinning, too. "Can we sabotage the equipment they've got in the hangars, too?" he asked with almost childish glee.  
  
"You're psychotic, you know that?"  
  
"I'll take that as a yes." Duo rose to his feet with a silent grace Zechs envied, encumbered as he was with his cast. "Do you know the way to the vents?" he asked.  
  
"In theory, yes," Zechs said.  
  
"In _theory_?"  
  
"It depends on how similar the layout of the West wing is to the East," Zechs said in frustration. "I'm betting on it being as near symmetrical as they could make it, but I could be wrong."  
  
Duo frowned. "We're just going to have to count on it being symmetrical," he said at last. "I can't see that we have any other option. If we come across differences, we'll just have to improvise."  
  
Zechs nodded, and they emerged from the alcove and headed towards the thick of the fighting. 


	9. Part 9

**Author**: Anria  
**Warnings**: some violence in future parts  
**Pairings**: the beginnings of a Duo/Zechs thingy  
**Disclaimer**: do I look rich enough to own GW to you? (Hint: noooooooooooooo.)   
  


**Trust Part 9**

  
Duo and Zechs made their way through the majority of the hallways without any incidences. A few times they had to hide from groups of men running in the direction they were and so presumably towards the fighting, but luckily no one spotted them.  
  
Duo led the way, sometimes scouting ahead briefly before returning to Zechs' side. The blond man began growing more and more tense as they neared the area he had said the hangar entrances should be, half-expecting to be completely wrong about it. The sound of gunfire grew louder and louder as they neared their destination, and as they came to a large intersection Duo held up his hand for Zechs to wait and crept forwards, peering around the corner.  
  
There was a wide grin on his face as he turned back to the taller man. "Looks like you were right," he whispered. "That's the hangars, all right."  
  
Zechs raised an eyebrow at him, ignoring his sudden feeling of relief. "What's the plan now, oh omniscient one?"  
  
"Hey, I had to work off your information," Duo chuckled. "Since we've got uniforms, sneaking would only look suspicious at this point, so we just act like we're supposed to be there. Stuff our hair down the back of our shirts, and we should be good to go."  
  
"Hiding in plain sight?"  
  
"That's the general idea."  
  
They shared a sharp-edged grin, both knowing the plan was tenuous at best. Zechs' gut was in knots as they rounded the corner at a jog, balancing on a fine edge between exhilaration and utter terror.  
  
The door they were heading for was halfway along the corridor towards the hangar end, the guns firing at the end of the corridor and shouted orders covering up the sound of their approach. It was somewhere between a few seconds and an eternity before they reached the door, Duo yanking it open and dragging Zechs in after him.  
  
"Phew, that was lucky," Duo said, eyeing the empty room as the door clicked shut behind them. "Don't quite know what I'd have done if there were people in here."  
  
Zechs stared at him. "You . . . didn't have a plan for that?"  
  
Duo snorted. "If I did, I would've told you. Come on, where are these vents?"  
  
The vents turned out to be hidden behind a few piles of empty crates, which Duo moved far enough away for them to take the metal grating off the edge. The large circles of metal led directly out into the hangar, and were more than big enough for both of them to fit through.  
  
"Hey, I can see into the hangar!" the brunet man said, peering down the vent. Turning around, he grinned at Zechs. "I guess the OZ people who authorised this figured they'd irritate the officers who wanted their modern comforts," he said. "Talk about noise pollution!"  
  
Zechs grinned back. "Glad you approve of my idea. They got what they wanted, though: a breeze. It just so happened to be from the planes."  
  
Duo blinked and stared at him, before a slow smile spread across his face in place of the grin. "Sneaky, Z-babe," he chuckled. "Veeeery sneaky." Hoisting himself up to the vent's rim, he slung his gun across his back on its strap. "Come on, let's get out of here."  
  
"Z-babe again?" Zechs responded, clambering awkwardly after the smaller man.  
  
"You gotta have nicknames," Duo responded in a near-whisper from the other end of the vent. "Aha, found it," he muttered, carefully unscrewing the grate as quietly as he could. Zechs waited behind the other man in a crouch, letting Duo take stock of the situation at the best way forwards.  
  
"It looks like we're at the quiet end," Duo murmured after a few minutes. "Most of the fighting is going on to our right, but unless we come up with a big – and I do mean _big_ – distraction, we're not getting out of here that easily."  
  
Zechs frowned and thought hard. "Can you see any equipment lying around here?" he asked. "Explosives, grenades . . . it would be too much to ask for a jeep, I suppose," he added to himself.  
  
"How about three jeeps?" Duo said, making Zechs' head jerk up in surprise. The brunet man grinned at him, slipping quietly out of the vent (and when did he take the grate off, anyway? Zechs wondered) and to the ground. "It looks like we're mostly hidden behind a cache of weaponry and standard vehicles."  
  
Zechs eased himself to the ground, carefully manoeuvring so that he wouldn't knock his broken arm. "Perfect," he replied, scanning the rest of the hangar.  
  
To their right lay the hallway entrance he and Duo had sneaked past, boasting a barricade of upturned metal crates and holding strong. Their former captors were firing on both the hangar opening and the hallway entrance directly opposite them, which looked to have been taken over by Preventer agents. They couldn't make a break for it through the gunfire, and the only route to the blockade the Preventers had taken over would lead them directly out into said gunfire. Not to mention that if they ran towards them dressed as the enemy, they would be shot at.  
  
"Do you think you can rig up a jeep or two to accelerate towards the Blackbirds and blow when they hit them?" Zechs asked, gesturing towards the blockade to the right of them. "It's the quickest solution I can think of."  
  
Duo shrugged, linking his hands behind his head. "That's easy," he said. "You don't even have to set them to blow, they'll do it themselves if you get up a good enough speed. Problem is, all the jeeps are facing the wrong way, and it'd take at least two to knock that thing down."  
  
"And once the first one has gone, we'll lose the element of surprise," Zechs mused, then straightened. "Nothing for it, then – we'll have to drive one each towards them and jump out at the last minute."  
  
Duo looked torn between an adrenaline-junkie grin, and concern. "Are you sure you can make it out in time with that arm?" he asked.  
  
Zechs gave him a withering look. "Please. I might be injured, but I'm not _weak_."  
  
Duo eyed him speculatively, then nodded. "You're the boss."  
  
"Funny, you've been the one leading."  
  
"Well, the guy giving the orders is a little incompetent, you know?"  
  
"He only seems that way because you don't understand the reasoning behind his orders."  
  
Duo rolled his eyes at Zechs as they made their way along to the jeeps, carefully keeping behind the assorted piles of weaponry and other junk piling up in the hangar. "Keep trying, Z-babe, you'll grow a sense of humour one day."  
  
"If it's anything like yours, I think I'll pass."  
  
Duo snorted. "You take the right of the barricade, I'll take the left, okay?"  
  
Zechs nodded. "Okay."  
  
Duo insisted on going first, slithering across the seats of both jeeps to carefully hotwire them. When they were both seated, hunched down to avoid notice until the last minute with the rumble of the jeeps' engines masked by the gunfire around them, Duo held up one hand and slowly folded the fingers down. His heart pounding in his chest, Zechs slammed the car into gear with his free hand before whirling the steering wheel and shoving the accelerator peddle to the floor.  
  
The jeep jerked forwards and turned neatly to shoot like a bullet towards the Blackbirds' barricade. The blond man heard Duo speed up behind him, and suddenly realised the slight hole in his plan as a bullet whizzed past his head. Gritting his teeth, he prayed that the bullets would avoid him – and Duo – and held on until the last minute before diving sideways out of the open door. He rolling as he landed, wincing as the fall jarred his arm – not to mention the rest of him.  
  
Something warm slumped onto his back, but Zechs had no time to discover what it was as both jeeps crashed into the barricade. 


	10. Part 10

Thanks to everybody who's reviewed! I've got a couple of quick responses before we move on to the final part. :)  
  
Garen Ruy Maxwell - I know I mentioned 2x6, but this story is and has always been more about building up the foundation of a relationship based on mutual trust and respect than having two guys jump into bed together. Unfortunately. I did consider the smex, but it just wouldn't have worked with the fic. Sorry. :(  
Memeal - it probably is what you think it is, but not as bad as you think it is. Did that make sense? O.o  
  
As well as those two, thanks go to Queen of the Slash, MD, bp, Lancynth, and mshel for feeding my ego and making me happy. :D  
  
**Author**: Anria  
**Warnings**: some violence in future parts  
**Pairings**: the beginnings of a Duo/Zechs thingy  
**Disclaimer**: do I look rich enough to own GW to you? (Hint: noooooooooooooo.)

**Trust Part 10**

  
The noise was deafening, the heat of the explosion washing over his skin. Zechs held still, his free arm over his head, until the last of the noise died away. And as it did so, he realised . . . there was no more gunfire.  
  
The something warm that had landed on his back shifted and groaned. "Damn, I'm never doing that again," it muttered, and Zechs' eyes shot wide open.  
  
"Duo?" he gasped out, rolling to the side.  
  
Duo stayed slumped on top of him, slightly dazed blue-violet eyes blinking at his face, before the brunet man smiled. "Think something broke my arm, too," he said. "Now we'll have matching casts. Like matching hair, only less permanent and more of a pain in the arse to take care of."  
  
Zechs barked out a laugh, relief washing through him. If Duo could joke, he couldn't be too badly hurt.  
  
_"Zechs!"_ Someone yelled, and the blond man realised it was coming from behind them. He managed to shift up onto one elbow, his white-blond hair spilling out of the back of his jacket to pool beside it, and blinked as Noin came running up. "Zechs, are you all right?" she said, eyes wide. "We were told you and Maxwell were being held here, but priority number one was taking the base back from the terrorists."  
  
"I'm okay," Zechs said, grunting as he tried to hold up both his weight and Duo's. "I don't think Duo is, though. He shielded me from the blast, says he thinks he's broken his arm."  
  
"I don't _think_ I've broken it, when it hurts like fuck and has bone sticking out of it I _know_ I've broken it," Duo muttered into his chest. "We saved the day, now can I go get this arm set? And do me a favour, if Heero's here, tell him to stay the fuck away from me. I know what he does to broken bones."  
  
Noin blinked at where Duo was lying against Zechs' chest. "Ah – sure," she said, then raised her voice back to the other Preventers. "Agent Michaels! We've got some work for you here!"  
  
"Lisa Michaels?" Duo asked sleepily. "She's nice. Good medic. Can relax now. . . ." With that, he passed out.  
  
"He looks like he's taken a knock to the head, as well," Noin said, frowning, then smiled. "Well, thanks to you two it looks like we can handle things from here. Agent Michaels is the medic for my unit, she'll take care of both of you. Rest now."  
  
Zechs half-smiled, looking down at Duo, resting in blissful unconsciousness. "Okay," he said, and passed out as well.  
  


**oOo**

  
When Zechs came to, he was on a cot inside a cargo plane, straps dangling from the side of the bed. _They must've been expecting me to sleep through the flight,_ he thought, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. _No wonder; I wasn't expecting me to pass out. Emotional exhaustion, most likely._  
  
Gingerly, the blond man manoeuvred himself off the cot, wincing as a multitude of bruises made themselves known. _Fun._ He noticed that the Blackbirds' uniform had been replaced with Preventers standard-issue, and grinned ruefully. Somebody obviously didn't like the idea of someone mistaking their own for the enemy.  
  
The floor was cold against his bare feet as he made his way towards the cockpit. Abruptly, a familiar laugh echoed down the metal corridor, and a small knot in Zechs' stomach loosened as he realised Duo was up and about.  
  
"Am I intruding?" he asked, knocking on the frame of the door into the cockpit.  
  
"Zechsy!" Duo said, grinning at him. "Good to see you up and about." He was a complete mess; his hair was coming out of his braid, he had a black eye, and his arm was encased in a large, white cast, which he waved at the blond man. "Look, we match!"  
  
Trowa stood beside the brunet man, arms folded over his chest and a glimmer of amusement on his face. "Maybe if you were a foot or so taller," he told Duo.  
  
Duo pressed the hand not encumbered by a cast to his chest, melodramatically grasping the folds of fabric there. "You cut me to the quick!" he declared. "I shall never love again!"  
  
Zechs rolled his eyes. "Glad to see you're feeling better," he said, then turned to Trowa. "What's the situation, now?"  
  
"Yeah, tell me already," Duo interrupted. He glowered at Zechs. "Tro-Tro here was being a bastard, and wouldn't tell me what was going on until _you_ woke up."  
  
"It's easier to debrief both of you at once," Trowa told him. "Falcon's been captured and is awaiting charges. We were able to identify him as Harold von Spitzberg, the younger son of a former Romefeller member who wanted the power he lived vicariously through his father back. All Blackbirds in the base have either been captured or killed, with forty-eight casualties on their side and nine on ours, including you two."  
  
Duo blinked. "We count as casualties?"  
  
"According to the official statistics, yes," Trowa said, shrugging one shoulder.  
  
"What happens now?" Zechs asked.  
  
"Now, Duo has a decision to make," Trowa said.  
  
The afore-mentioned man blinked, looking surprised. "Me?"  
  
"Quatre has decided to leave the Preventers," Trowa said, something approaching a snarl in his voice. "He says, and I quote, 'My talents are better needed elsewhere. I can do more work as a part of WEI than I can as a Preventer, so please convey my apologies to Duo.' So basically, you're out of a partner, and I'm out of a lover."  
  
Duo stared at him. "What? How does Quatre leaving the Preventers mean you two have split up?"  
  
"If he's left the Preventers, he's not the person I thought he was," Trowa said, and abruptly clammed up, rising to his feet and handing Duo a sheet of paper. "This has the list of agents currently without a partner. Une's instructions are that you can take however long you need to find a permanent partner, but you're not to be without a temporary one at any time, and she wants to hear of your decision the minute you make it. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to help with the prisoners." He stalked past Zechs out of the cockpit, the metallic clang of his footsteps echoing back to them.  
  
Zechs stared after him. "He . . . certainly seems upset."  
  
Duo chewed on his lip, scanning the names listed on the sheet. "They probably had a big bust-up over Q leaving," he said. "If Quatre leaves him some time to cool down before explaining why he can do more as part of WEI than part of the Preventers, they should be okay." He frowned. "I think . . . I've not seen Trowa that mad at him before."  
  
Zechs shrugged. He knew neither of them personally, so a lover's tiff between the two was, quite frankly, none of his business. "Who looks like a good candidate, from that list?" he asked, changing the subject.  
  
Duo peered at it a moment more, before stopping halfway down the page and staring at one of the names listed there. A slow grin spread over his face, and he turned an angelic smile towards Zechs.  
  
"Do you know . . . that you're on this list?"  
  
"What?" Zechs blinked, snatching the list out of the seated man's hands and scanning it. Sure enough, there was his name. "I thought Une decided she wasn't going to assign me a partner, at all. Ever."  
  
"Maybe she forgot to take you off the list," Duo said, his grin turning decidedly evil. "So . . . how about it, Zechsy? I seem to work well with blonds, and if you got any blonder you'd be a golden retriever."  
  
"I'll take that as a compliment," Zechs said dryly. He eyed Duo critically, making a big show of looking him up and down. "Well, the hair could use improvement, and you're a little short for my tastes . . . but I suppose I can trust you to do your job, at least."  
  
Duo laughed, grinning up at his new partner. "Only my job? I'd trust you to do a lot more."  
  
**[End fic]**


End file.
